Secret Killer
by sissi.huys
Summary: A person named S.K. posts people's secrets online. Two students, close to finding the answer, get murdered. Sherlock and John take the case, not knowing what to expect. Contains a lot of OC's (pairings) and simultaneously follows their story and how they're coping together with the progress in the case. Who is S.K., and why would they go to such lengths to post people's dirt?
1. Secret Killer

**So, hey readers. This idea just popped into my head while I was dreaming, and it stuck with me so I decided to work it out. It's a Sherlock fanfic, but it's also got a lot of OC's in it but it still remains a case Sherlock has to solve. He can't do it without the student's help, though. There will be romantic pairings between the OC students, *warning non-slash as well as slash and femmeslash* but I don't know whether this will be Johnlock or Mystrade or whatever. Or nothing. I'll just see what you guys think. If you like it, leave a comment, or you don't too, I just want to improve. I haven't written any Sherlock before so I'm curious to see how this turns out. Enjoy. **

"Did you read it?"

"What? That new post on ? Dan, you know I don't care about that sorta thing."

The girl sighed and blew one blonde hair out of her face. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and big pink lips. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a simple grey sweatshirt. Her friend opposite her, had hair that was a bit darker blonde, and her eyes were a very light green. She chose a more sophisticated style, chique black trousers, a cream-coloured jacket and neatly painted red nails.

"I'm sorry, all right," the first girl said. "I didn't mean to bother you, Kate. I just wondered."

Kate straightened her jacket and smiled, "If it's gossip you want, you're better off with Ivy or Stella."

"You have nothing against gossip."

"No, I don't," Kate replied. "You know I don't, Danielle. But this S.K., whoever that is, is being really nasty."

"Aye, of course. But-"

That very second Danielle's phone bleeped. S.K. had updated.

"Anyone we know?" Kate asked.

"It's about Bob!" Danielle exclaimed. "Here, read this!"

**Hello dear readers, I've got a juicy new fact for you. **  
**Y'all must know Bob Vandermost? **  
**The guy from 4B who's always so honest and good? **  
**Turns out he's not. **  
**Poor Bob's _so_ poor, he's stealing everything he can't afford. Which is everything. **  
**Don't believe me? Lucky for me I attached a picture... **  
**Good luck in prison, Bob. **  
**And, for you, dear readers, remember; I am everywhere. And I know everything. **

**xS.K. **

"Bob's a thief?" Danielle gasped.

"I'd rather not believe anything that bastard S.K. says," Kate said.

"But, Kate, there's a picture! Look at it!"

"Shh, don't talk so loud," she warned Danielle.

"We're in the damn yard, Kate. People _will_ hear us. And everyone's checking out the newest update," Danielle sighed. "They'll find out for themselves, I'd say."

A tall blonde girl, a smaller curvy girl, and the shortest, a brunette, joined them at their table.

"Did you read-"

"We did," said Kate earnestly.

"I always knew Bob was a hobo," the tall one said.

"Ivy!" her curvy friend laughed.

"I don't see how that's funny," Kate said crossly.

"Bob's a real good guy, he is," Danielle agreed.

"But what can we do?" said the brunette.

"Dunno, Ruby," the curvy girl shrugged. "The school's been trying to find out who it is for weeks."

"And it's not like we minded before Bob was targeted," Danielle said.

"There's this girl in my brother's class," told Ruby, "Jane. She says she's got a clue."

"Well, so does Rick, this fellow in my sister's class. I don't think either of them know."

"Don't talk like that, Maisie!" Kate said. "No secret can stay buried forever, especially not something like that..."

Maisie stayed silent and idly twirled a blonde tuft of hair between her fingers. Dani's phone bleeped again and girls at the table tensed.

"Phew, it's only Thomas," she sighed.

"Oooooh Thomas!" Ivy cooed and Dani glared at her.

"He says he's with Bob now. The poor lad's devastated."

"I'd be," Kate muttered.

"Well, not me," said Ivy cheerfully. "If you've got nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear."

Dani laughed.

"I believe the phrase is 'you've got nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide.' And everyone's got secrets."

"And S.K. loves to get them out..." Maisie said. "How d'you think he or she knows all this?"

"Cameras?" Ruby suggested. "Or many people tell secrets to him. Her. I don't know, shim?"

"Isn't Willow with you?" Dani asked.

"Nope," Ruby said. "She's with Bernadette."

"I thought they weren't friends anymore," the blonde girl said with a frown.

Maisie and Danielle exchanged looks that meant nothing to the rest.

The lab was empty and dark, abondoned except for the two boys sitting on the ground. They were hidden behind one of many desks, and one boy was holding his sobbing friend. The sobbing boy remover his glasses to wipe his green eyes, only to allow more tears to come. He had shaggy brown hair and a lean figure, while his friend, though he was shorter, was also more muscley.

"How- how- how did they find out?" the bespectacled one cried. "I've never told anyone. Thomas, I'm so ashamed!"

"It's not your fault," Thomas replied, giving the other an awkward pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, Bob."

Thomas had a freckled face framed by dark blonde hair that was way too long. It reached his shoulders.

"It's not okay!" Bob protested. "My parents-"

"They won't be angry. They know you aren't really well-off."

"But our classmates-"

"4B's a great class," Thomas comforted him. "We've known each other for four years and helped each other through all sorts of stuff. Divorces, homosexuality, abuse, depression..."

That had calmed down Bob a little. He took deep shallow breaths, which gradually become more steady.

"The rest of the school won't be as accepting."

It wasn't a question, just a statement. Thomas' face showed he saw no point in denying it.

"You won't be the only one," he settled with, the most comfortingthing he could think of.

"No, I won't."

Bob didn't have anything else to say. Thomas tried to keep the conversation flowing.

"Teachers will probably take more drastic-"

"So what if they will?" Bob huffed. "No one knows how that bastard operates, how he gets his information, let alone who he is. maybe it's more people. They know nothing, and S.K. knows everything."

"Okay, maybe teachers won't be able to do anything," the blonde boy admitted. "Maybe this is more of a police thing."

"The police will arrest me for stealing, and will most likely only look at what's on the website than pay attention to who's putting it there."

Bob and Thomas both stayed silent for a while, Bob wiping the last tears and finale regaining control. Then he suddenly jumped up and practically started jumping around the lab. Thomas was alarmed by this sudden change in emotion, got up as well and pointedly asked, "What?"

"Sherlock Holmes, that's what!"

"Whatlock Who?"

"Sherlock Holmes, Thomas!" Bob said happily. "He's a consulting detective, have you never heard of him?"

"Now you mention it..." said Thomas, "his name's popped up in the paper a few times, hasn't it?"

"Yep. The Reichenbach case, his fake fall... you know. He's incredibly famous. Stella, Jenny and Louise love his blog, well, it's Dr. Watson's blog, but it's about Holmes. They adore the man."

"And Danielle doesn't?"

Bob laughed, and Thomas was happy to see him cheer up again.

"You know her, Thom, Danielle is more fond of fiction than fact."

The blonde boy remained silent, subconsciously wiggling his hair.

"What is it?"

Thomas shrugged.

"Nothing, it's just-"

"You don't believe someone can be that good?"

_I think I need to see it for myself first_, Thomas thought, but he wasn't going to trouble Bob with those thoughts. It was important for Bob to have faith right now. Thomas himself was still worried.

How many more of his friends would he have to comfort? How many more secrets would be revealed?

The bell rang.

"Jenny? Jenny?" a skinny girl with frizzy brown curls said, snapping her fingers. "God, she doesn't even hear me! Louise, she doesn't hear me!"

Louise went for the direct approach; she punched the dreamy girl in the back.

"Au! Louise, what did you do that for?" she said crossly, rubbing her shoulder.

"Stella was talking to you just now," Louise replied dryly, revealing her ear behind her thick brown mane and plugging in one purple earplug.

Jenny smiled innocently, still crouched in front of her locker, mumbling an apology. She blew a perfect chocolate-coloured curl out of her face and continued trying to stuff her things in her bag. Jenny was a tiny skinny thing with a caramel skin and light blue eyes.

"Sorry, Stell, what were you saying?"

"I was talking about Sherlock's last case," Stella said, twirling a fuzzy tuft between her fingers.

Stella was if possible even skinnier than Jenny, but taller and with a larger head. Stella had not always been this slim, so her head looked out of propotion with her body. Her skin was red and irritated most of the time, she had thin lips, small grey-blue eyes and no eyebrows, but Stella had a photographic memory and scored top marks.

"The one he didn't solve?" Louise said. "I only like the ones he's solved."

Louise was perhaps the odd one out, curvy and with an ear piercing. Her brown hair was dyed, red was coming back in places, but she had the most stunning almond-shaped green orbs. She wasn't nearly as obsessed with him as Stella and Jenny, but at least twice as obsessed as she dared to admit.

"Especially the two with Moriarty," she added as an afterthought.

Jenny had finally managed to pack her things so the three of them trotted on to French class.

"How cool would it be if Sherlock and John came to our school?" Stella said.

_Sure_, Louise thought, _and when you, Jenny, Dani and I leave school we'll all go to study in New York. _

"That'd be awesome!" Jenny said, nearly half as gullible.

"Why would he ever come here, though?" Louise wondered.

"He would surely be able to figure out who S.K. is," Stella suggested.

"And do you think he'd be interested in a petty highschool blog?"

"It's not petty," the tallest girl objected. "You saw how everyone was acting towards Bob in the break."

"It's petty to Sherlock, though," said Louise, "'cuz he's used to serial killings and consulting criminals."

The three of them were the first to arrive in class, so Louise just took her seat and waited for Dani to join her.

The trio had officially been a quartet, except for the fact the three of them had never been a group. It was always Dani and her, together with Jenny and Stella. No, not a quartet. Two duo's in an uneasy pact. Though, when they weren't all annoying the shit out of each other, they could have quite a bit of fun really.

Tension arose again when Dani and Maisie entered arm in arm, and Louise could just feel Stella trying to murder Dani by glaring. Dani, however, took it in her stride, flopped down next to Louise and grinned, "If looks could kill..."

Louise chuckled and opened her book, lazily flipping to the page they'd had to study.

"Did you do it?" she whispered.

"What d'you think?"

"Why do I even bother asking?"

"So," the blonde girl said pointedly, "did _you_ do it?"

"Why do you think I asked if you knew it?"

The girls laughed in unison.

"I heard you lot were talking about Sherlock," Dani chatted, her fingers tracing the line of her phone in her pocket. "Lemme guess, Stella thinks the S.K. thing can bring him here?"

"Spot on," Louise smirked.

"Seriously, Louise, sometimes I feel like you're the only sane one around here," the blonde girl sighed. "Excluding me, of course."

"Including you," the brunette corrected her.

"Ah, perhaps you're right."

Dani's tone was suddenly so sad it drew Louise's attention. Her friend's blue eyes were fixed on Willow. Then she suddenly snapped her head back toward the blank white board and muttered, "Sherlock, yes."

"Hmm?"

"Sherlock won't come unless someone gets murdered, I guess," Dani explained, a little louder.

"Don't tell Stella," Louise grinned mischievously. "If Sherlock desires a corpse, she'll be glad to put it there."

Dani laughed so hard their teacher glared at her.

"Est-ce que quelque chose drôle?" the teacher asked, pursing her lips.

Louise and Dani stared at each other, before the latter replied in a perfect accent, "Non, non, Ce n'est pas drôle. Excuse-moi, madam."

Louise let her eyes scan the classroom.

Bernadette, Jesse and Bob were the only ones paying attention if only to fix their awful grades, next to Sabrina and Chloe, who accepted nothing lower than a B. Like, never.

Angel was braiding her hair again, and Louise clenched her fist. Angel went to the hairdresser once a year, and washed her hair once a fortnight. It resulted in a dry, smelly frizzy monster on her head, but Angel was always braiding it. She could make fifty braids a lesson. It drove Louise round the bent. Then she spotted Dani making sticking out two fingers and moving them up and down, like scissors. Louise chuckled once more.

She then resumed her 4B X-ray. Freddie and Oliver were once again having a little bitch-fight, teasingly slapping each other without doing any serious damage. Ella was scratching her head with one hand and taking sloppy notes with the other. Stella was working ahead with her eyes narrowed to slits in concentration, Willow was sketching, Frank and Chris were listening to music, Olivia was chatting-

Louise's phone gave a buzz, synchronizedly did Dani's. Dani arched her blonde eyebrow's, mumbling, "That's a coincidence."

Louise eyed the teacher to be sure, but Mrs. French ( having forgotten her actual name ) didn't bother explaining anymore so she had just written homework on the board and was now browsing for God knows what.

_Coast clear_, thought Louise, getting out her phone and reading the text.

**Pour mes chèries Danielle et Louise, **  
**Je suis votre ami. **  
**Vous voulez être mes amies? **  
**xoxo S.K. **

Dani and Louise stared at each other, knowing they got the same message. Without even bothering to translate, Louise breathed, "It knows we're in French class."

"It?"

"Yeah, it. As in, person of undetermined gender."

"It's a guy," Dani whispered, anxiously looking around. "'Je suis votre ami'. See, ami's written without an e at the end."

"I never thought you could use grammar for deductions," Louise said, laughing nervously.

"It's not a deduction, I just noticed."

"Never mind," the brunette continued, looking at the text again. "What's it saying?"

"He asks us to be his friend," Dani said quickly, as if it were unimportant. "Is this the first time he reaches out to people seperately? Or had S.K. more friends running around?"

"It's friendship he's after?"

"An alliance, more likely," Dani mused. "We give him information, in exchange for- aye, protection."

"So," Louise said, breathing unevenly, "we spill our guts to him, or we'll be in the next post, is that it?"

There were again two buzzes, and the next text read:

Oui, exactement, mademoiselles. xS.K.

* * *

**So, this was a sort of intro to it all. For those of you who don't know me from other fics, hi I adore you for reading this and I'd adore you even more after you've left a review. I also pose questions I'd like answered at the end of my chapters. You can respond in a review or PM, whatever you like.  
For those of you who do know me: Thanks you're reading this one as well! You don't need to know Sherlock to be able to understand this fanfiction, other than the fact Sherlock's a proper genius and he can recognize a pilot by his left thumb and all of that. **

**1. Did you like it?**

**2. Any favourite character(s) yet? **

**thanks lovelies**


	2. the Diary of Jane

**This is chapter 2, I still have no clue what you guys think but here's the runner-up. The title is from a song of my favourite band, but it's also relevant to the chapter so here ya go. This chapter will only have a mention of Sherlock, just as last chapter, but from chapter 3 onwards we'll have a Sherlock bit in every chapter. Chapter three is even completely Sherlock. I'd also love to know which OC's you love, hate, or want to see more of. Tips are also very welcome.**

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"Are there any laptops available?" the redheaded girl asked the school librarian.

"Sorry, dear, you'll have to wait for one to get free," the old lady said.

"Oh, that's okay, I'll come back tomorrow," the girl answered, smiling.

The ginger girl trotted down the stairs and sat down in the yard, where it was starting to get quiet.

She took out the green booklet, which was the exact same colour as her eyes were.

_Jane_, was written on it with silver ink, and a neat handwriting.

The scribbles in the booklet were a lot less neat. At the top of each page stood a few numbers, recognizable to Jane as dates.

Underneath the dates stood all sorts of notes that had been scribbled down hastingly, before the thoughts had left her head.

This was the closest thing to order Jane had, the rest of her life had always been a mess.

Jane Montgomery was an absentminded, albeit pretty girl of sixteen years, with a kindly freckled face and slender, graceful body.

She quickly skimmed the booklet until she found a blank page somewhere in the middle of it, and wrote a new title: 'What I know about S.K.'

She sucked on her pen for a few seconds, and then jotted down some facts. At first, S.K. hadn't interested Jane in the slightest, until Jane's best buddy, Phoebe, had been targeted.

Phoebe was a fervent smoker, and sometimes smoked more than just tabacco. Her parents had been furious, furious enough to make Phoebe drop out of school and she was now taught at home.

Jane had lost her best friend to that bastard, and ever since the only thing on her mind had been to catch S.K. It wouldn't get Phoebe back, but events as this would not happen to anyone else.

So far her attempts had been remotely succesful, and now she had gathered a dozen page crammed with clues.

So far she had three leads-

For a split second Jane had sworn she heard footsteps behind her. Her breaths quickened, and she clutched her booklet to her chest, not caring it was still open and wet ink might stain her shirt.

She was too scared to move in inch. She heard another step, and was now certain someone stood behind her.

"H-h-hello?"

The person behind her gave no reply. All Jane heard was heavy breathing. Trembling, she decided to wheel around and face the other.

The last thing she saw were her killer's eyes before he drove his blade through her.

Jane heard herself scream.

"He did it. He e-mailed Sherlock Holmes."

"Bob?"

The blonde boy huffed and leant back in his lazy chair.

"What?" his friend asked him. "Freddie?"

He had brown curls and a russet skin, together with his dark brown eyes he looked Italian.

The boy called Freddie just shrugged and said, "I just didn't think he'd do it."

Freddie's bedroom was mostly green, and in the corner were three guitars. He had always been fond of music, not to mention Freddie was good.

"I don't think it'll help, though," he said, "I don't think he has time for us."

They boys continued to game for a while, graphically and digitially blasting off any foe's head off, and shouting at them if they couldn't have their way with them.

"Damn terrorist!" the one with the curly hair shouted.

"I know right, I- damn, another! BOOM! DEAD! GOTCHA, YA BASTERDS!"

There was a knock on the door and a blonde woman peered in the room.

"Oliver, Fred, I'm off to Betty's place. I'll be home very late. There's food in the fridge. Don't wait up. Bye, have fun!"

"Fine, mom, bye mom," Freddie said abesemindedly, half-waving, half-motioning for her to get out.

He looked at Oliver, who was making himself comfortable on the couch and turned on the telly.

"So, what's for dinner tonight?" Oliver asked with a goofy smile.

"Lasagne, I believe," Freddie replied. "'S okay, I'll just put it in the microwave later."

"Fancy," Oliver jested.

"I'm with a fancy person," the blonde boy retorted.

He stood up and heated up their food, dividing it between the two of them and a little while later they were on the small couch, watching a movie with plates on their laps.

Legs and arms and sides touched, and one crazy moment Fred thought Oliver's hand was itching for his.

When both of them had finished their dinner, they played another movie and sat tensely on the small couch, weary of their close proximity.

It was some sort of horror movie, with zombies, brains and loads of blood, but Fred sat there being terrified. It took everything he had not to jump everytime a zombie popped up in the screen and cling on to Oliver the entire time.

He caught himself staring at the other's lips and hands, then quickly shook his head pretending nothing had happened.

Then there was a loud scream; Fred realized too late the scream was his and his arms locked Oliver in a choking embrace, burying his blonde head in Oliver's chest.

His friend's body stiffened, and only then Fred had found the decency to let go and he tried to regain composure, which was difficult considering both boys were blushing.

"Er- sorry," the blonde one apologized quickly, trying to create us much space between them as possible. "I'm really sorry, Oliver- I just- I just lost it for a second."

"No, no, that's fine," Oliver said, still furiously blushing. "I'd have jumped too if you hadn't first."

Even though Freddie knew it was a lie, he was glad Oliver didn't act weird around him.

After a while the latter even fell asleep.

_Trust Ollie to fall asleep during a horror movie_, Fred thought to himself, smiling. _That's why I love- why he's my best pal._

Oliver's lips were slightly parted, his breathing steady and he was sprawled all over the couch.

He suddenly turned, his left arm crossed over Fred's chest and stayed around his neck, Oliver's sleepy head now on Fred's shoulder.

_He's completely dozed off, he wouldn't notice it if a bomb went off._

Pushing his luck, Fred carefully traced a finger over the russet skin and readjusted a stray curl.

Fred's eyes stayed fixed on Oliver's lips, wondering what it would be like to feel them on his.

He felt his finger move toward them, softly stroking them. They felt soft and warm.

Fred's heart skipped a beat when Oliver stirred, but it was only to cling onto him tighter.

The gap between them got smaller and smaller, and the thought of closing it played with his mind.

_It's now or never,_ Fred mused, _he won't notice it._

After a deep breath, Fred made to kiss Oliver, but then the brown eyes snapped open.

They sat like that for a what seemed like ages, millimeters apart, flushed, and breathing quickly, just staring at each other eyes and lips.

_Three seconds_, Fred thought. _If he hasn't pulled away I'll do it. Or I'll lose my nerve._

One, he counted nervously. _Two_, his breath shallow and uneven. _Three_.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips anxiously, leaning in.

Milliseconds after he felt smooth lips under his, tense at first, but then they relaxed at his touch and, to Fred's immense relief, Oliver kissed him back.

A small boy, no older than twelve, was standing in the yard, startled at the sight before him.

The redheaded girl lay spreadeagle on the table, her blood gushing everywhere.

The boy couldn't see her killer's face, but he was still there, making more and more cuts as he went.

_Was he trying to drain all her blood from her?_the boy thought, shivering.

Then murderer's body tensed, suddenly, and the boy realized he was listening to his breath and other noises that betrayed him.

"Why did you kill her?" he asked boldly.

The killer spoke with a voice that sounded like no man's, and the boy realized the killer had some device on him that changed it.

"She knew too much, Richard."

"My name's Rick," the boy corrected him. "She knew too much about what?"

The murderer wrenched a green booklet from the dying girl's grasp and threw it to him.

Rick caught it, and stared at a page, blank except for the title: 'What I know about S.K.'

"You're the Secret Killer," he gasped. "She was onto you, so you killed her."

"You know too much as well," said the robotic voice, its body slowly moving toward him.

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Rick said nervously, taking small steps back, careful not to trip. "Is that worth posting a few dirty stories?"

"It'll all be worth it in the end. Not that you would understand, Richard. Not that you would be there to see it."

"It's Rick, not Richard," the boy repeated stubbornly.

He could see the murderer grin.

"Will that matter when I kill you?"

Rick toon the hint and sprinted in the opposite direction, flying up and down stairs, opening and closing doors, desperately seeking for a hiding place. He left the booklet behind halfway, and took a few turns.

But the killer was gaining on him, he could hear other footsteps than his getting closer and closer, louder and louder.

Rick heard the metal sound of a knife being unsheated, and had to stop when he felt an incredible pain in his ankle.

The blade had gone straight through it and he fell to the floor, unsuccesfully trying to hold back the running flow of red.

The murderer was laughing and Rick screamed, shrieked, sobbed, but no one could hear him.

The other kneeled beside him, another knife shining in his hand, and for the first time to the boy could see his would-be killer's face.

"I knew it was you," Rick stammered. "It had to be you."

"Hush, now, boy," the killer chuckled. "Talking won't be any use to you. There's only one thing left for you to do."

"Do it quickly. Please."

"Tut, tut. You know I won't. Die now Richard. Die."

_"Ethan," Maisie giggled. __"Ethan, stop." But the tall boy with jetblack hair and blue eyes continued to plant sweet little kisses on her lips and her neck._

_He had his giant hands placed securely on her hips, and he grinned smugly._

_"You're so beautiful, Maisie."_

_Maisie was too flustered to say another word but when Ethan leaned in for a deeper kiss and she was in no state to deny him._

_Not that she wanted to, she had pined over him for two years now, and was estatic there was finally mutual affection._

_They kissed for ages, and then Ethan broke the case to utter the words, "Maisie, I love-"_

**BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.**

Maisie groaned and pressed the snooze button, the taste of the phantom kiss still lingering on her lips.

She got out of bed, still drunk with sleep, and made her way downstairs in the abandoned house.

Her sister had already gone to school, and her mom was off to work.

Maisie poured herself a glass of orange juice avoided her reflection (she was most charming without make-up), and ate a bowl of muesli while waking up gradually.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Maisie frowned. Who could that possibly be?

One look at the mirror and she decided not to open the door, since it could be no one of importance.

The bell rang again, but Maisie just ignored it and continued to eat.

The person at the door had obviously decided enough was enough, so they knocked on the door and shouted, "Scotland Yard, open the door, please!"

Maisie's eyes widened and she sprinted to the door, opening it and- her jaw dropped.

Next to two cops was her little sister, her face covered with tears.

Maisie opened her arms and little Michelle ran into them, violently sobbing against her chest.

"What happened?" Maisie inquired, somewhat angrily.

"Could we come in?" the female cop asked.

Maisie said nothing but steppes aside, prior to guiding her sister to the couch and seating her down next to herself, and the cops took two chairs opposite them.

"If she's calmed down, we would like to ask her a few questions," the other cop said.

"About?"

The officers looked at each other. Then, slowly, the woman started to explain.

"Does the name Rick Brown mean anything to you?"

"He's in Michelle's class, isn't he?" Maisie said. "What about him?"

"Your sister found his body this morning," said the man.

Maisie gasped and looked at her sister's tear streaked face, hugging her more tightly.

"She called us," the make cop continued, "and when were searching the building we found another body. Jane Montgomery's."

"Were you or your sister close to either of them?" the woman asked.

"No."

"Do you know anyone who was close to them?"

"Yes," said Maisie slowly. "My friend Ruby's brother. Er- what 'is face- Robin, yes. Robin Jameson."

"And what was Robin Jameson's relation to the victim?"

"They were close friends," she replied. "Jane's closest friends were Robin and Phoebe, but Phoebe's being homeschooled now, if I'm correct."

The woman had been writing all of this down and thanked her for the information.

"Do I still need to go to school?" Maisie asked.

"Michelle can stay home if she likes," the female cop said. "I phoned your mother, she'll be here in a short while to stay with her. She's in shock and will need a while to calm down. You, however, still need to go. Lessons will go on just as planned, only the History corridor and the yard are closed off."

Maisie nodded and stroked Michelle's hair with her free hand.

"Thank you for your time," the man said, ready to leave.

"Hang on," she said, "is that it? Aren't you gonna say stuff like 'we'll be putting our best people on this case' or something?"

"Don't worry, we'll have the killer in no time. We'll be putting our best man on the case," the man said, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, look him up online if you want."

"No," said Maisie softly. "I've heard of him."

* * *

**I can post the next three chapters ahead, but then I'm going to be out of chapters for now. Btw, this story is also one Wattpad but I thought I'd have more readers posting this on both sites. Hope you enjoy. **


	3. Meanwhile at Baker St

**I'll just post whatever I have right now and do the rest later. You can read ahead, but then you might be in for a long wait. Maybe not. Writing this story goes so quickly, I have loads of inspiration, thought I find it harder to write about characters that are not mine (Sherlock, John and Lestrade) so if anyone has got any tips to help me improve my writing for them, feel welcome to comment.**

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ONE WEEK AGO

John Watson entered the building with two heavy bags. He'd just returned from the supermarket.

"Oh, John, thank God you're here!"

Mrs. Hudson had startled him, but he put down the heavy bags and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's Sherlock!" the woman said shrilly. "John, talk some sense into him- I tried, he wouldn't listen-"

John left the bags unattended and rushed upstairs, and burst into the room to find Sherlock sitting there, looking ready to slit open his wrists.

"Sherlock," John said slowly, in a threatening undertone, "Sherlock, put the knife down."

"No."

"Put it down," he repeated, more urgently this time.

Sherlock held the knife closer to his wrist, and said, "Life's dull. Haven't had a case in months."

"I'll find you one," John said desperately, "for God's sake, Sherlock, put the knife down."

The blade was now touching his skin, and if the detective pressed any harder he'd cut himself.

"_Sherlock_- NO!"

A thin stream of blood spilled from the cut, but oddly enough that little bit was all.

"But that's your wrist," said John, puzzled. "You should be bleeding to death."

"Do I detect disappointment?"

"Sherlock, that's not funny-"

"Isn't it?"

"_No, it isn't_. How did you do that?"

Sherlock smirked and rolled up his sleeve, revealing some kind of band on his lower arm, that stopped the blood from flowing.

"Doctor, I believe my arm requires some patchwork."

"Why did you do that?" John raged. "You scared the living hell out of me, did you know that?"

"Of course I did."

"Why did you pretend to take your life?"

"I already told you," Sherlock sighed, "I haven't had a case in months, I needed some form of amusement. So do you, by the way, it's been two months since you and Mary split up, you need to move on."

John clenched his fist, trying not to punch the detective in the face and flopped down in a chair. He grabbed his phone, opened his mailbox and said, "You need a case. Right now."

"Anything interesting?"

"Mrs. Johnson thinks her husband is cheating on her-"

"He probably is. Dull. A four, or a three. Won't leave my flat for anything under seven."

"Ms. Chesterfield thinks her neighbour is possessed by the devil. She describes; tantrums, unstable emotions, indistinguishable speech..."

"Nope, it's a type of drugs, solved it without leaving the flat."

"Brian Stark's been robbed. His deceased wife's jewelry been stolen."

"A five."

"One Bob Vandermost asks if you could help him discover the person behind a website that posts people's deepest secrets."

"A three. Probably just a bored student."

John sighed. At times, Sherlock was utterly hopeless. He remembered the grocery bags in the hall and stood up, tossed his phone into Sherlock's lap and went downstairs to fetch them.

PRESENT

When a sleepy John entered the living room, he saw Sherlock had been crashing on the couch once again.

He didn't bother commenting on his flatmate's sleeping habits anymore, and he didn't flinch when he saw the tongues in the fridge.

"Goodmorning," he yawned, and was about to make himself a cuppa, when the doorbell rang.

John went to answer it, but then Mrs. Hudson came up with DI Lestrade.

Sherlock jumped up and was suddenly wide awake.

"Ah, Gavin! Please tell me you've got another case!"

"It's Greg," Lestrade said for the hundreth time. "And yes, I've got a case."

"What, where and when?"

"Two kids killed at school right outside of London," he explained. "Barton's high school. A girl called Michelle Summerfield found the boy this morning, and when we searched the building we found another body."

Barton's? thought John. Why does that name ring a bell?

"Sherlock," he said, remembering. "The e-mail. About that student who posted secrets online. It's the same school. Maybe the killer and this S.K.-person..."

"Good thinking, John!" Sherlock said. "This case just went from a three to a seven!"

Lestrade gave John a questioning glance, to which John just smiled. Yep, that was just Sherlock.

"Will you come?" the DI asked. "I'm not with the police car, so I can give you and John a ride."

"Fine," Sherlock said and John had to say 'thank you' for him.

The detective turned up his collar before stepping in the silver car, to which John and Lestrade rolled their eyes.

There was a silence in the car, Lestrade was concentrating on the road, and Sherlock was reading something on his phone.

"Where is the school?" John asked conversationally.

"A relatively small town just outside of the city centre," Lestrade answered.

"Who are the victims?"

"Rick Brown, twelve years old and Jane Montgomery, seventeen years old. Both died of blood loss from several deep cuts."

"I was wrong," Sherlock said out of the blue.

"Hmm?"

"About S.K. It's not just a bored student."

"How would you know?"

He showed John the Secret Killer's web page. The detective had been reading all the posts. Most of them had evidence in form of pictures.

"A student who's good in climbing trees," John shrugged.

"Yeah, and capable of murder. And they know where everyone is every single minute of the day. There's too many pictures here for it to be coincidence."

"A bored student aspiring to spy for the government later," John said. "What sort of posts are they? Any links whatsoever?"

"All sorts of secrets," the detective mused, scrolling through updates. "Varying from nude photos and hustling to drugs and abuse."

"Jesus," Lestrade muttered. "What have these kids been up to?"

"No more than most adults," Sherlock said dryly, making John chuckle.

"And the victims?" Lestrade asked. "Anything in common?"

"Nothing obvious so far. Both boys and girls, all ages, all intellectual levels. Is there a chance we could question some students?"

"Sure," the DI replied. "But take it easy on them, especially the younger ones. Don't-"

"Be myself? Yes, yes I know that joke."

Lestrade stopped the car and they got out, John trying to ignore the students at the windows looking down upon them. He noticed they were mostly girls, giggling and pointing, some even taking pictures with their phones.

John and Sherlock followed Lestrade into the yard, where Jane Montgomery's body lay on the table.

"Who put her there?" John wondered aloud.

"No one did," answered Lestrade. "We found her like that."

To Sherlock's great displeasure, Anderson and Donovan were also present. Anderson had evolved from hater to fangirl after the Fall, but Donovan was still as hateful a ever.

"Don't say anything," Sherlock said, for Donovan had already opened her mouth.

She pursed her lips and took her leave going off to chat with Lestrade about which students to question.

John quietly stood next to Sherlock, who was examining the body first.

The girl lay flat on the table, had suffered several cuts all over her body, and was covered in dried blood.

"The first cut was in her stomach."

"But why would the killer make more cuts after?"

"The same reason he put her on the table," the detective said, "he wanted to make a scene. Create chaos."

He then narrowed his eyes and came closer to the body, his face inches from the girl's chest.

"Look," he said, motioning for the doctor to come closer.

Sherlock pointed at a great red patch of blood, and at first John couldn't see anything. But, when he looked closer, he saw tiny black marks, nearly invisible because of the blood.

"What is that?"

"I'm not sure," Sherlock answered. "I'll ask Molly to find out what it is when Jane's moved to the morgue."

"Find anything?" Lestrade asked.

"Tiny black marks on her chest," he said, ruffling his dark curls. "Take me to the boy."

"The blade went straight through his ankle," Sherlock said, holding the small foot up carefully. "The boy was obviously on the run when the killer took him down."

"Perhaps he had seen Jane getting murdered," John guessed.

"You're getting better and better with your deductions, John."

The doctor was positively surprised by this comment and smiled away the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Donovan interrupted them, shoving a list in his hands.

"These are names of students you may want to question. A couple of them recommended, but most of them volunteered."

John skimmed the list. They were a lot of names indeed.

"What are you waiting for?" the woman said impatiently.

"What? Right now?"

"Of course right now. You can see them in the principal's office. Ready yourself for a long sit, boys. Lestrade wants them all done today."

Sherlock snatched the list from his hands walked out the door and called after him, "Keep up, John!"

"Robin Jameson."

Robin was a bit uneasy, shifting in his chair and readjusting his hideous glasses all the time. He messed up his mousy brown hair a lot, too.

"You were close to Jane?"

"Yes, sir. I was one of her best friends, sir."

"Who are among her other best friends?"

"She didn't have many friends, sir. Just me and Phoebe, sir."

Robin looked extremely uncomfortable. "Phoebe?"

"Aye, sir. Phoebe left school just a few weeks before."

"Why?"

"Her parents made her drop out, sir. She's being homeschooled now. There was this post, on , sir, that said she smoked pot."

"Jane must have been outraged that one of her two friends was taken away from her," Sherlock said. "What did she do?"

"She was determined to catch S.K. she said, she became obsessed with it."

"How much did she find out?"

"I don't know, sir. She never told me."

Robin Jameson proved to be the only person who had been really valuable, because the next stream, the stream of volunteers, had clearly not come to give answers that were of any use whatsoever.

Stella Meyers, a girl with tiny blue eyes, a frizzy mob of curls and unnatural skinny body, only had eyes for Sherlock and stared at him for the first few seconds.

"Have you got anything you would like to share, Stella?" Sherlock asked, his voice flat and emotionless.

"I'm a huge fan."

"Anything that could help us with solving this case?"

"I'm really, really good with deductions. I've read about all of your cases, and I've practiced."

"Splendid," the detective answered, his tone contradicting his words. "Deduce away."

"Er-"

Stella's face went red and she started fidgeting with her hands.

"Waiting..."

"Sherlock," John said in a warning tone.

"You had a cigarrette this morning," Stella said, and Sherlock beamed at her.

"Was I correct?" she asked hopefully.

"No," the detective answered, "O haven't smoked in a month and I'm wearing three nicotine patches. I'd practice a little more if I were you, Stella. Bye."

After Stella had left, others like her entered, wasted their time and were sent away again.

When all names on the list had been worked off, Sherlock and John left the principal's office and went out to the corridors, John keeping his fingers crossed.

He didn't feel like running into students now. He groaned when he heard an amount of noise that could only be made by a large crowd.

Though, when he opened the door and walked up front, he saw loads of backs, while expecting to see faces.

_What the hell were they looking at?_John thought, whilst Sherlock, reading his mind, went to a group of giggling girls at the edge.

They were sixteen year old blondes, blue-eyed beauties, tall, average and short in length, trying to get a glimpse of whatever the rest was looking at.

"What are we trying to peek at, ladies?" asked Sherlock.

"You should be tall enough to look over the crowd, sir," the average length girl said.

"Let me give you a clue, Mr. Holmes," said the shortest one, smirking, "there's mostly girls and a few gays in there."

"All I see is Lestrade," Sherlock shrugged, and the girls giggled.

The detective raised an eyebrow.

His face was scrunched in confusion. John, however, being a normal human being and having experienced attraction to another human being, knew what was going on.

"Girls, Greg is a few years older than you," John said carefully, smiling friendly at them.

"And you, doctor, have obviously no idea how the mind of a teenage girl works."

It was the shortest girl who had spoken again, clearly the one with the most sass.

"I think I should reconsider forensics if it means I'll get to work with him," the tallest one said.

"Oh, come on! He's grey!"

"Silver," the short girl disagreed, and the other two laughed.

"Oh my, Stella's glaring daggers at us, look! She's jealous 'cause we're chatting with Sherlock and John!" the tallest girl said, pointing at a face lost in the crowd.

"Ivy, ssshhh!" the average one warned her.

"Please tell me she tried to deduce something about you," the short one said. "I could use a laugh with these murders going on."

"Dani, you are supposed to be one of the three people who can actually tolerate Stella."

"I tolerate her half of the time."

Ivy and her friend laughed. The latter eventually said, "I'm Maisie Summerfield, by the way. These are my friends, Ivy Stone and Danielle Harding. If you need anything, ask us."

"Thanks ladies," Sherlock said. "How very kind of you."

"Well, all of us just want S.K. gone, I guess," Maisie shrugged.

"If you are as good as you say you are, Mr. Holmes, you should have him in no time," Danielle smiled.

"I'll try my best, we are dealing with a devious, brilliant mind, I'd say. It would have to be, being able to play all these people."

"These people are stupid," Danielle contradicted him at once. "They suspected Sasha Kettleblack just because her initials were S.K."

Sherlock laughed, to John's surprise.

"If I need anything of you, I'll be able to find you," the detective laughed, to which all three girls chorused:

"Good luck, Mr. Holmes."

* * *

**Reviews are very much appreciated :)**


	4. Just' homework

**I'd love to know what you guys think! But if you're reading this I already love you. I enjoy writing this even thought it's something I've never done before, it's my first Sherlock thing but people always appear to like my OC's... so... I hope you're not disappointed at this little Sherlock in here. It will get more as the story continues, though the main focus will be on the OC's I guess.  
**

* * *

"I still think it's rubbish we've got homework for Art and Design," Danielle remarked stubbornly.

"It's better than French homework," the other girl muttered.

"French homework is easy."

"Yeah for you it is."

"Well, Chemistry's easy for _you_, Will."

"You're forgetting a syllable," the girl said stubbornly. "Will-_ow_. It's not that difficult."

Dani grinned.

"What's wrong with Will?"

"Everything," Willow said. "It sounds like you're talking to a guy."

"It's just an abbreviation, _Will_," Dani said. "You call me Dani and I'm fine with that."

"Dani sounds girlier than Will."

"Sometimes people call me Dan, and I'm cool with that," she said.

"Most people call you Dani."

_Yes, she's very pretty,_Dani thought, _though stubborn as hell and a verbal mess._

Willow continued to sketch and Dani tried to peak over her shoulder.

The sketching girl noticed and she smiled at her friend.

"You're not copying, are you?"

"This is bloody Art and Design, how am I supposed to copy?" the blonde protested. "But seriously, what are you drawing? I'm rubbish at the 'just-make-up-something-to-sketch-for-yourself'-stuff."

Willow stubbornly blocked her sketchbook from Dani's view.

The latter decided to take on a different approach, leant back and her face took a smug expression.

"What?" the brunette said suspicously.

"Nothing."

"You know I hate it when you do that. Spit it out. What?"

"It's okay if you're drawing smut, I get that. That's private."

Willow flushed.

"I'm not drawing smut."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm n-"

"Then prove it to me," Dani said teasingly.

Willow saw her intentions and huffed, "Nice trick, but no."

"Hmmm, is it perhaps gay smut?"

Willow's face went from magenta to brick red, and warned, "Dani, that's enough."

However, her friend sensed a weakness in her prey, smirked and continued, "What's it? What are the girls doing? Kissing, or more? Anyone in particular? Could it be a secret fantasy, a forbidden passion? Tell me, who are they? You and-"

"_Dani_-"

"Ah, why, I'm very flattered."

It took Willow a few seconds to realize she had verbally been made a fool of and Dani looked like she was about to piss herself laughing.

Willow's skin had reached such a vivid shade of red a tomato seemed mundane.

Since this was no more than a routine for them, Willow muttered things under her breath Dani didn't bother to pick up and continued what they were doing.

Rough rock music filled the room when Willow turned on the speaker, and both girls sang along with the songs of their favourite band.

"Seriously, though," Dani insisted when the song had finished. "What is it? An animal? A landscape? Fashion? I need inspiration!"

Willow blushed again, and admitted softly, "It's you."

"Splendid!" said Dani cheerfully. "Am I naked?"

"N-no," the brunette spluttered, though she was laughing.

"Aye, we can draw each other, then. I'll try my best and not make you look like an ape."

"You're not _that_ bad."

"Wow, what a compliment, Will. I fell the love, honestly."

"Dani, I mean it. You're quite good."

"Not as good as you."

Willow smiled shyly and muttered a thank you.

Dani was satisfied. It had taken Willow a while to accept compliments and not deny them. She had always been bullied at primary school but when she was placed in class 1B, where people were weirder than her, she actually felt accepted.

1B became 2B (adding Thomas and Harry), and became 3B (adding Ivy) and 4B was closer than ever.

Dani knew they were the luckiest class with this S.K. business going on, because when the rest of the school would scorn them, they would still have their classmates.

Speaking of the devil, Dani saw S.K. had updated.

"Who is it?" Willow asked, without looking up from her paper, recognizing the buzz.

"No one we know," she replied casually, "nude photo from a girl in 2K."

Dani put away her phone and frowned with concentration, trying to get Willow's nose right.

Willow was a pretty girl, with thick chestnut coloured hair that fell a little past her shoulders, with mesmerizing grey eyes and full lips. Her body was tall and womanly, and even though she was dressed unconventionally, she drew the boys' attention.

Today Willow wore a tight white cocktail dress with black kittens as a pattern. combined with army boots, goth-ish jewelry and thick black eyeliner.

It took Dani a while before she remembered the topic of their conversation.

"You've got a bloody difficult nose, you know that!"

"How come?"

"Well, it's too pretty. The noses I draw are usually ugly stumps. It would've been much easier if your nose was a stump."

"Er- no, I'll pass, thanks."

Dani laughed. She edged closer to the other girl to have a better look at it.

Willow made no move to crawl back, but her breaths became quick and shallow.

"It's so straight," the blonde murmured.

Blue eyes met grey ones, and stared at each other for ages.

But then Dani's phone buzzed.

**Having fun, are we, honey?**

I'm waiting...

xS.K.

Dani stood up and opened the door.

"I've got to make a call," she said, leaving a flustered Willow.

Louise hated Math. She always had and she probably always would. Still, she worked at it until the numbers fogged up her mind.

Sometimes, like now, she was lucky and had Stella or Jenny by her side to help.

"Can you explain that tangent thing again?" she asked Stella.

The curly haired girl looked up from her own neat calculations and smiled.

"Sure."

Stella's room was big, light and white, with little blue and black heart stickers on the wall at random places.

"Let me read the question," she suggested, "then you can ask Jenny where she's at."

"Maybe she forgot," Louise shrugged, but checked all the same.

She saw she had a missed call from Dani. She ignored it for now and texted Jenny.

Dani called again but she pressed ignore, thinking of calling back later.

The next second Dani texted her:

**IMPORTANT. IT'S ABOUT OUR LITTLE WOULD-BE FRIEND.**

"Stella, I'll be right back," Louise mumbled and went into the bathroom and called Dani.

Here Stella wouldn't hear her talking about S.K.

"Hi," Louise breathed.

"Hi, glad you called. S.K. texted me. His patience is running out. What should we do?"

"Dunno. Maybe we should refuse him, I don't want to help him to ruin more lives."

"S.K. will target _us_."

"He's got nothing on us, has he?" Louise asked, biting her lip.

"Everyone's got dirt," came the reply.

"But, Dani- Aiding a _killer_-"

"-might prevent us from ending up like those murdered kids. I know, it's a dangerous game we'll choose to play, but maybe refusing is even more dangerous."

There was a long, tense silence.

"I don't know, Dani. Maybe we should talk to Sherlock or Lestrade-"

"That'll be worse than refusing S.K.'s offer!"

"I don't feel good about accepting it, either..."

"Same here, Louise, same here..."

"So?"

"Let S.K. know we're in, as long as it doesn't get too extreme. There's only so much information one can give."

"Okay."

Louise was relieved Dani had found such a perfect solution.

"How will we let him know we're in, though?"

"Oh, he'll know," said Dani darkly. "He's not the Secret Killer for nothing."

And sure enough, after Louise had closed the call, she received a text.

**Glad you're in, darling.**

I'll text you whenever I need something.

xoxoS.K.

Louise sighed and pressed her phone against her chest. For the first time in her life she was glad she could start on her Maths again.

There was a knock on the door and Louise opened it to gaze upon Stella's worried face.

"You were gone long," she said. "Is something off?"

"Nah, it was only Dani," said Louise casually, not really lying.

"What was it?"

Louise paused and pondered her answer for a while. Too long for Stella Meyers.

"Lemme guess, it was about Maisie or Ivy or Willow. Maybe she was telling you all about her chat with Sherlock. It was nothing special, no doubt, but I bet she goes on about it non-stop."

Stella bore no love for Maisie, nor Ivy and Willow. She couldn't stand the fact Dani did like them. She was also not very good at hiding the fact she was indredibly jealous.

Louise had wanted to have a word with the detective as well, but she was mature enough not to pretend she knew anything about the double murder to get to him.

She couldn't be jealous of Dani, because her friend had assured her it had been a relatively superfacial conversation.

"Where's Jenny?" Stella just asked again, and as if it were a cue, the doorbell rang.

Both girls went to get it, and when they had, they received a shock.

Aye, it was Jenny, but she was sobbing hysterically.

"What is it?" Stella said. "Jenny, talk to us..."

The girl continued to cry and threw her arms around Stella pulling her into a crushing hug.

Stella's blue eyes expressed confusion, but she held Jenny's petite figure and stroked the perfect curls.

"What happened, Jenny?" Louise asked. "Jenny, could you please tell us what happened?"

The small girl let Stella go, wiped her nose and eyes, and said, with a trembling voice, "I'm pregnant."

"DIE, TERRORISTS, DIE!"

"No, Chris, that's me you're shooting!"

"Freddie, budge up a little, your fat ass is occupying the entire goddamn couch."

"Jesse, you bastard! You're in my way!"

The four boys sat on the couch, and had been videogaming their way through a relaxed homeworkless afternoon.

Well, homeworkless...

Shooting enemies was more fun than Maths or Art and Design.

Jesse, Chris, Oliver and Fred had been playing for hours on end in Fred's house, because his parents weren't home and they were going well.

Things were not necessarily awkward between him and Oliver, just a bit complicated.

They had barely spoken after the kiss, and when they saw each other at school it almost seemed like nothing had happened.

Almost.

The looks and cheeky smiles Oliver would give him in between moments said enough, and, giddy with glee, Fred would return them.

Later, when the boys had started to get hungry, they had finally been able to leave the couch and get seated at the huge mahogany dining table to eat the delivered pizza's.

Fred and Oliver sat opposite each other, Jesse sat next to Fred and opposite Chris.

Chris was looking to his reflection on his spoon and fixing his hair, which was already stiff with products, while Jesse chatted merrily about things that no one cared enough about to listen.

Eventually the others joined in the conversation, making japes as they did, the conversation covering teachers, and classmates.

Then, Fred suddenly felt Oliver's leg brush his and he saw the curly haired boy smiling.

Immediately both were committed to this teasy game and had loads of fun, and it made Fred feel all warm inside.

_Jesse and Chris know nothing_, he thought, his heart fluttering. _Ollie must like me and they know nothing._

But, soon enough, the topic changed to S.K., as it did way too often recently.

A sudden wave of fear flooded Fred, and he saw in Oliver's brown eyes he shared it.

Still, his friends toes squeezed Fred's own, a sign meaning 'Have faith, S.K. won't find out'.

"That nude picture, though," said Chris. "Dunno who she is, but I might want to get to know her."

He grinned smugly.

"No, Chris," Jesse said, rolling his eyes. "Just no."

"What would you know about it, Jesse?" Chris said crossly. "You ain't never had a girl before."

"I dated Louise for a while," Jesse protested, the red patches on his face becoming visible, like always when he was nervous.

"You dated Louise for two damn weeks," the vain boy huffed.

"The two worst weeks of her life, probably," Oliver grinned.

Jesse groaned while the others laughed, but the laughter died out when Chris said, "Just admit you're gay, all right."

Oliver and Fred looked at each other uncomfortably, then the blonde one said, "Jesse fancies Ivy."

"Aye," Oliver said. "And Chloe, and Louise and Danielle and Willow and Maisie."

He'd made a joke out of it to ease the tension, and it worked.

Chris' phone beeped, probably a text from some girl he'd shag a week later, and he noticed the time.

"Jesse, we're supposed to be home at nine," he said pointedly. "We should go if we don't want to be more than a quarter of an hour late."

"Shit! Good point," said Jesse, gathering his things and practically sprinting to the door. "You coming too, Oliver?"

"Nah, my parents are off to this play for their anniversary. I'm crashing here."

Fred and Oliver had smiled at each other, waved Jesse and Chris goodbye, and then stood in the hallway for what seemed like a century just grinning at each other.

Slowly, but confidently, Fred took small steps towards Oliver.

"They don't know a thing."

"How could they know?" Oliver smiled, taking Fred's hands in hands.

It was weird at the start, but it felt right somehow. He knew holding hands with your best mate wasn't right in any sense of the word, but it felt so damn _right_.

"Actually, I don't care what they know or don't know," Oliver said softly. "All _I_ know is that no one will interrupt us and we've got the house to ourselves."

_All I know is I want to kiss you._

Fred placed his hand lightly on Oliver's cheek. The two boys were grinning like fools, getting used to each other's touch.

Their first kiss had been so clumsy, accidental not to mention, and the oddness of the moment was something that did not leave Fred's mind.

Oliver made to lean in same as Fred did, so they increased the space between them and chuckled trollishly.

"Let me, you started last time," the brownhaired boy suggested, closing the gap so their lips touched.

Sherlock Holmes was frustrated. The detective was plainly frustrated.

"There are no clues! No clues about this S.K. character!"

"Shouldn't you be looking for the killer rather than S.K.?"

"Those two are linked, if they aren't the same person, I tell you!"

"So why are there no clues for S.K.?" John asked, agreeing.

"Whoever they are, they're too clever," said the detective angrily. "I was wrong before. This case was never a three. This person is so deliciously descreet."

"You must have something," John soothed him.

"Nothing!" Sherlock raged. "No gender, no age, nothing! I don't even know if it's a student, or a teacher, or a random criminal who's having fun with them-"

"And what about the way they get their information?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't know if S.K. has expensive camera's or just a lot of friends."

"But what about his- er- their victims? Are there links between them?"

"Nothing- _hang on_, what did you just say?"

John furrowed his brows.

"I asked if there were any links between-"

"No, no! Before that," Sherlock insisted. "You said his victims- _his_."

"I forgot we didn't know his- God, I'm doing it again- their gender."

"You aren't the first one to make that mistake," the detective mused, suddenly more cheerful. "That girl we spoke about Lestrade yesterday- the blonde one-"

"Sherlock? All three of them were blonde," John laughed.

"The one who said Lestrade's hair was silver, not grey- it's obviously grey but that's not the point- what was her name?"

"Danielle Harding," John said. "But, slow down for me here, what did she say exactly?"

Sherlock put his fingers to his temples and rubbed, "Yes, Danielle. She said 'If you are as good as you say you are, Mr. Holmes, you should have him in no time'."

"You should have _him_ in no time," John realized.

"A seemingly harmless mistake," his friend agreed, "but it gave her away. She knows S.K.'s gender, which does not necessarily mean she knows who he is, but it does mean she knows more than I do. It's a start."

He wheeled around, grasped his phone, dialed Lestrade's number and said, "Gavin, I need to speak to Danielle Harding tomorrow."

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**1. Favourite OC('s)?  
2. Favourite pairing(s)?  
3. Who do you ship?  
4. If you desire any Mystrade, Johnlock, Sherlolly of whatever, let me know. I'll consider it. **


	5. He's everywhere

**This is chapter five, chapter six is on the way and I hope a lot of people will read and like this! Comments can only make me improve. Anyways, enjoy.**

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Thomas and Danielle were half way. They were cycling to school as they always did, chatting and blabbing away cheerfully.

"How's Bob been?" Dani asked.

"He's coping," Thomas said grimly. "The fact people still call him names doesn't help very much."

"No, of course it doesn't," the girl said sadly. "I swear, if someone would insult him in front of my face..."

"You'd be occupied for a very long time."

"Why is S.K. such a son of a bitch?"

Thomas sighed.

"And of course there's also the people who spill other people's secrets to him," he said. "I think that's even worse."

"Who says he gathers information that way?" Dani said quickly.

"I don't believe there's camera's and microphones everywhere," Thomas explained. "We'd have noticed, surely."

"We'd also have noticed students spying on us and taking pictures from the top of the trees."

_She's got a point_, he thought. _But how can we not see S.K. while they are everywhere?_

"I still think students spying in trees is more plausible than camera's," Thomas insisted.

"Aye, that's true.''

"I don't see why anyone would want to help S.K. ruin other people's lives."

Dani bit her lip.

"Don't think wrongly of me, but-"

Thomas frowned. _But what?_

"But there might be more to it than it seems," she said, nearly in a whisper. "Those people have their own reasons."

"I don't think there's any good reason to betray people like that."

"Why do you have to be so annoyingly politically correct?" Dani laughed, making Thomas blush. "You're so damn diplomatic all the time."

"I just want this to be over soon," he said.

"That Sherlock Holmes fellow is doing his utmost, he's assured me," Dani assured him. "Stella told me all about him. Sure, she tends to romanticize things a bit, but she says she's really good. She showed me his website, and Dr. Watson's blog and everything."

"I dunno, Dani, this might be very difficult for someone who doesn't _know_ any of the students."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She paused for a bit, her eyebrows knitted together in thought, then said slowly, "That's actually quite clever."

"Well, there's no need to sound so surprised about it."

"No, that is quite clever. Holmes could never solve it all by himself, because it is so personal."

They had arrived at school and Dani couldn't stop grinning at Thomas. He had to admit he quite liked the sight of it, but he couldn't quite grasp the reason behind it.

"What?" he asked when they entered the school doors.

"Mostly it's me who come up with that sorta things," she said, her grin softening into a genuine smile. "I'm proud of you."

Thomas remained silent but he was positively flushed by the compliment, and follow his friend to her locker.

"What's up first?"

"Er- Math," he remembered.

Dani groaned. He knew she hated Math avoir all other subjects. She nearly got stressed by the sight of numbers. And if anyone was shit at calculating out of her head, it was Dani.

"Now would honestly be a perfect time for Sherlock to take me out for questioning," she joked.

"What would he ever need you for?"

Dani placed a hand on her heart in a mocking fashion, gasping, "My dear friend, you wound me."

"What would he ever need you for?" Thomas repeated stubbornly, trying not to laugh.

"I'm your biggest fan, Mr. Holmes, I've read all Dr. Waston's blogs, I know your methods, I could help with your deductions," she said in her best impression of Stella.

"I can't believe she had the guts to ask him," he said.

"Bravery and stupidity are often confused with each other," Dani shrugged. "I think she made a proper fool out of herself."

Halfway the corridor they met up with Bob, who was still anxiously avoiding the gazes of his peers.

It was only when a group of passerby freshmen called at him, "Oi, thief!", that Dani's temper was aroused and snarled, "Lay off, you babies! Be a little more mature and get those campers off of your backs first before you dare insult anyone."

The freshmen gritted their teeth before they called off in defeat, their huge backpacks weighing them down as they ran with their crooked backs.

Dani was still angry, but dismissed it with a joke, murmung, "Those sonuvabitches woke the dragon."

"And that's a Game of Thrones reference?" Bob guessed, his shy smile being the only 'thank you' he dared to give.

"Aye, it is," the girl smiled, but her smile soon faded when she entered the Math classroom.

Thomas flopped down next to Kate who was clad in navy blue and clicking impatiently with her red nails.

"Dying to know the test marks," she muttered to him.

Very much unlike Dani, Kate was in love with the concept of magicking numbers into answers.

And Thomas was just one of those people was not particularly good at anything, but not bad at anything either. He was average with everything.

The math teacher was ignored by half of the class, its students were merrily chatting with each other and not paying mind to anything he was saying.

The bald man liked to pick on a few students, though, Dani, Frank, Martin and Samuel being his absolute favourites.

Ruby and Oliver were closely behind us, and though Thomas never had much going on with Oliver, he was very fond Ruby, as much as he was fond of Kate.

Bold because of Dani's compliment, he whispered to them, "I've had this thought about S.K."

"I'm tired with everything concerning S.K.," Kate sighed. "They would be much less active if we stopped reading those posts and talking about them all the time."

"I don't think everyone would," Ruby said earnestly. "The thought of gossip is way too exciting. It's all so close, it's emthralling."

"Unless they're targeted themselves," Kate said. "I know. That's the stupid thing. I don't mind a bit of gossip, but gossip is so innocent compared to this. These posts- they expose people's deepest secrets."

"Yeah," Thomas agreed. "Normally there doesn't have to be any truth to these stories. But now-"

There was a long silence.

"This Sherlock Holmes should be able to solve this," said Kate confidently. "I read about him in the papers. He's really good."

"But that was my point," said Thomas, remembering. "I think he can't solve it alone. This S.K., they mean to keep it really personal. Sherlock can hardly do this without students' help."

"But we know nothing," the blonde girl said, aghast. "Us students know nothing about S.K."

"Jane and Rick knew something," said Ruby darkly. "And they got killed. If there are students who know anything, they'll keep their mouths shut."

"When did you figure it out?" Louise muttered under her breath.

"Well- I- I was a couple of weeks late with my period..."

Jenny's voice was fragile and she was on the verge of tears. The grip on her on her pen became tighter, whispering, "What am I supposed to do?"

Louise bit her lip and knitted her eyebrows together in thought.

"You could get an abortion."

"I can't do _that_!" Jenny said shrilly, though keeping her voice down. "It'll feel like I killed the baby."

"It's not a baby yet, technically," Louise tried. "And what are you going to do then? Have the baby?"

"It'll feel like I killed it," she repeated.

"What does Frank think?" Louise inquired. "He's not the type of guy to be a dick about this? I mean, he is the father, isn't he?"

"Of course he is," Jenny said briskly.

Louise noticed the abscence of an answer. It wasn't that big a leap.

"He doesn't know?"

"I wanted to tell him, I really did, but-" Jenny stuttered. "I just couldn't-"

"Do you know how dangerous having a secret is with S.K on the loose?"

Louise couldn't bear to think about what would happen is Jenny's secret got out...

There was a loud buzz, and the teacher interrupted his explanation to look for the source of the noise. Louise kept a pokerface, so he continued.

"Wasn't that yours?" Jenny asked, and Louise nodded.

Once the coast was clear, she fetched it from her bag and checked. Her heart skipped a beat.

_Luckily Jenny isn't as nosy as Stella_, she thought.

**Louise, darling!**

Want me to do some Math for you?

You spill a secret to me+ you will tell no one about our deal = the only way to keep Jenny's secret safe.

We wouldn't want Frank to find out via the website, would we?

xoxo S.K.

Louise's breath quickened, and she thanked heavens that Jenny was too busy focusing on her triangles to notice.

So that was it, then? How S.K. worked? He threatens people to get their friends' secrets out so they would blab about everything else they knew?

_What secret am I supposed to spill?_she wondered. _What secret would I sell for Jenny's safety?_

But then again, the question was also whose life she would ruin to make sure Jenny's relationship remained intact?

Stella's? Dani's? She didn't have much to choose from.

She could of course always tell S.K. about some rumors, he would surely take time to check if they were more than just rumors...

Her train to thoughts was put to a halt by a knock on the door. Her eyes shot to the door, and her heartbeat became faster and faster when she saw the familiar dark curls and prominent cheekbones.

And John was with him. But why? Did they have any leads? A sudden fear flooded Louise and made her numb. What if they came to question her? What if they had somehow found out about-?

No, they couldn't have. Not even Sherlock could sense that in the air.

The teacher looked mildly surprised, but not entirely. Probably students had been taken for questioning before.

"We would like to ask Danielle Harding a few questions."

This was the second best thing to make Louise go mad. What would they need her for?

Louise's green eyes caught Dani's blue ones. They expressed sheer panic. She swallowed and looked at the teacher, almost as if she wanted him to refuse the detective.

"Of course," the math teacher said, smiling wickedly.

It seemed like he had to restrain himself to say 'have fun' or something like that.

Danielle quietly packed her things and rose from her chair, her face pale and her eyes wide. She looked at Louise one last time, who nodded at her.

"It's gonna be okay," she mouthed without making a sound.

_Well, at least I hope it will be._

Sherlock, John and Danielle took seats in the principal's office. John stared at the girl's face from across te desk.

She kept fixing her golden locks, her blue eyes scanning the room nervously. Even John could tell Sherlock had been right before; this girl knew something. But how much he couldn't tell.

"Danielle," Sherlock started, and John prayed he would be gentle on her. "Do you know why you're here?"

She shook her head.

"No, sir."

Sherlock pondered his answer for a moment, his fingertips ticking against each other, then burst out, "You're hiding something, aren't you? What is it? Are you working with S.K.? SPEAK UP, GIRL!"

"Sherlock!'' John said, instantly pitying the girl, whose frightened eyes now were wider than he could have imagined eyes could go.

"W-what?" the girl spluttered. "I don't know anything, Mr. Holmes. Really."

"You're lying, you slipped up when we first met, remember? You gave S.K the personification 'he.' You're not supposed to know whether it's a he or a she."

There was a tense silence, as Danielle bit her lip and crossed her arms over her tummy.

"You're not answering," the detective said dryly.

"Sherlock, she's terrified," John said.

He turned to the girl and tried a different approach.

"If you're not going to say anything you will appear very, very guilty," he said carefully.

"I know," she said. "But S.K. has eyes everywhere. If he knows I've been helping you-"

"I doubt it'll top getting the blame for a double homicide."

She glared at Sherlock for this.

"_You're_ not a student," she said, her anger flaring. "_You're_ not a possible target. If I move one toe out of line, I'm on the website."

"You make it sound like S.K. threatened you," John noticed.

"He sent me a text," she confessed eventually. "That's how I know S.K.'s a he."

"He sent you a text telling you he's a he?" he asked. "I'm not getting this."

"Not literally," the girl explained, showing a text in French. "I got this in French class. See this word 'ami'? It's the male form of the word, there's no 'e' behind it?"

Sherlock simply smirked.

"You found out S.K.'s gender because of French grammar?"

"Aye, sir."

The detective looked at the girl with newfound admiration.

"What was in the text?" John asked.

"There's more texts," Danielle said, handing her phone to Sherlock.

"Who's Louise?" he inquired.

"A friend of mine," the girl said, "but please don't involve her into this. It's bad enough S.K will take revenge on me for this."

"So S.K. requires you and Louise to tell him other peoples' secrets?"

Danielle nodded.

"I think that's how he works. No cameras, just blackmail."

"What kind of blackmail, though?" John wondered. "Is it that he may have killed those kids because they...?"

"No, I'm pretty sure S.K. didn't work with Rick or Jane," said Danielle, "I think they knew too much. I never knew them well, but I heard they were both researching."

Sherlock's phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked up. There was a moment of silence, and then he smiled.

"Ah, Molly... What d'you mean ink? Did he write something on her? ... Okay. Bye Molly."

"What was it?" John asked.

"The black marks, they were ink marks, written words..." Sherlock said. "How could there be ink marks on her stomach? Did the killer write something on her?"

Danielle just sat there, thinking along, one shaking hand holding her phone and her eyes were constantly carefully peaking on the screen, her free hand running through her golden hair.

"Stop!" the detective snapped suddenly. "Hold still!"

The girl obeyed, holding still, but with a questioning expression on her face.

"What?" she piped.

"Your hand," he said, taking it and looking at it. "There's smudges all over it."

"Ink," she said casually. "I'm a leftie, it my hand presses against my own writing."

"It wasn't written upon her, the writing pressed against her stomach and left marks!" Sherlock exclaimed, sounding way too happy for John's liking. "She had a document clutched against her stomach, but the ink was still wet."

"You didn't find any papers, did you?" Danielle asked. "Maybe the killer took it. Maybe she was onto something. She always came across like a neat girl, she'd write her investigation down, in a notebook or something."

"We know she was onto something, or she wouldn't have been killed," the detective said, "the booklet, wherever it is, will undoubtedly have information in there that would expose the culprit."

"But I bet it's a pile of ashes now," John said. "Or do you think the killer still has it?"

"Well, I would have burned it," the girl said, "but S.K.- I don't know... he likes chaos. I mean, they told me Jane lay spread eagle on the table. Everything was covered in blood... like a painter that only paints with red."

"Hmmm, nicely put," Sherlock muttered sarcastically.

"At least _I'm_ not the one who appears to be having fun doing this!"

"And I'm not the one who deduces things using French grammar."

"Well, excuse me for having a talent," the girl mumbled irritably.

"It can't be the only talent you've got," John said.

"Yes, or S.K. wouldn't have targeted you and Louise," Sherlock said. "Do you have any idea why S.K. could have picked you two?"

"Er-" the girl laughed. "Apparently everyone in 4B agrees that Louise and I know the most secrets out of everyone."

"How come?"

"I don't know," Danielle shrugged. "I guess we both can sense it when something is off the hook. We ask, and they answer. People trust us."

"And now you both work for S.K.," the detective said, perfectly wicked. "Oh, the irony."

That made Danielle scowl.

"Listen, Mr. Holmes, I told you, we were in no state to refuse him! Both of us didn't want to end up on , okay!"

"No, instead you make sure other people end up there," said Sherlock.

"Don't you have something better to do?" she snarled. "Like searching Jane's booklet?"

_She was definitely pissed,_John noticed. _Good job, Sherlock, now she won't be very keen to help us. One final stroke and she's gone._

"I need more clues for where it could be," the detective said. "Didn't your little friend tell you anything? Or were you two too busy ruining other people's lives?"

_God, no_, John thought. _That was undeniably the final stroke._

"You'll never figure it out, you know," said Danielle suddenly, her voice venomous. "Even the great Sherlock Holmes won't be able to figure this one out on his own. Too bad he's got the social skills of a gravestone, because he can only do it with help."

After this, she angrily marched out of the office.

"Brilliant, Sherlock," John groaned, "absolutely brilliant."

Dani's breath wouldn't slow down, and she was gasping for air so fast and so often it was painful.

The halls were still quiet, and she just couldn't shake off the feeling someone was watching her. S.K., probably. It would be only a matter of time before her phone would buzz and-

Dani didn't want to look. She dreaded what the message might contain. Still, her fingers shaking, she slowly got her phone out and read the text.

**Why, I'm very disappointed. Have you decided to switch sides?**

**I'm not a very forgiving person. You had better find a way to make it up to me.**

**S.K.**

How could she make it up to him? Dani's expression turned sour. A secret. S.K would fancy a secret. Mr. Holmes would know it was her, though.

_And whose secret? I only know secrets from friends,_ she thought miserably. _S.K's got a trap set for me. Betray one of my friens, or suffer myself_.

"Give me some time, please," she muttered under het breath.

Another buzz.

**Changed my mind, Dani! I think I'll put your contact with the detective to good use!**

**Would you like to help him by finding that missing booklet? You know what it costs.**

**xoxo S.K.**

Dani sighed with relief and clutched the thing to her chest. She had gotten away for now.

For now.

But she wasn't safe. She wouldn't be until S.K. was caught. Sherlock could help them catch S.K.

The detective would need the booklet. She would have to find it for him. And S.K. would require a secret. And quick.

There was nowhere she could hide. S.K. had known she'd spoken to the detective, and when she'd begged for more time.

S.K. would always see and hear her. He was everywhere.

* * *

**Love you all**


	6. the First Clue

**This is chapter six. Enjoy. Terribly sorry it took so long. But I feel like this chapter is a good one and I needed this to get through to the next ones. ****  
****If anyone can find time to comment, I'm dying to know:****  
****- Who's your favourite OC?****  
****- Which OC's do you ship?****  
****- Do you desire Johnlock, Mystrade, JohnxMary, Sherlolly or whatever?**

* * *

Maisie Summerfield pretended to be focusing on her German exercises, while actually being able to look at nothing else but Ethan, who was just two rows in front of her.

Angel was either too stupid to notice or she didn't want to say anything about it. Most likely she was too busy braiding her hair.

Angel's hair was long (so long it reached her bottom) brownish, smelly and fluffy. For no reason in particular she loved the way her hair looked.

Maisie supposed it could have been kind of pretty, if she washed it more than once a fortnight and went to a hairdresser like a normal human being.

Angel's split ends made up for half her hair. It was out of control.

"Is this a die, der or das word?" she asked, when she was finished braiding her 11th braid. (Class had only started five minutes ago.)

"Er-"

Maisie bent over to look at the word Angel was pointing at, and she replied, "Das. Definetely."

"Thanks," smiled Angel, filling the correct personal pronoun in and starting a new braid.

She was quite all right, actually. Only she had the reputation of being annoying.

Angel was so arrogant in freshman year, but in the end it had been a defence because of all the bullying she'd suffered when she was little. She'd never lost the reputation.

Then, Maise felt her attention being drawn to Stella's and Jenny's conversation.

"I'll get fat," she heard Jenny moan. "I've never been fat before."

Stella laughed a cruel, high-pitched laugh.

"Don't worry, at least you won't be fatter as Dani is."

With these words Maisie's blood boiled. Did she hear what she thought she'd heard? How could she?

Jenny smiled. "Yes I suppose so."

"She's really let herself go, hasn't she?" Stella continued maliciously. "My, Dani's just a fat pig, that's all she is."

Maisie's fingers crumbled the edges of her notebook. How could Stella say that? How could anyone possibly say that about their own friends? Especially Stella.

At the end of class, the bell rang and Maisie stood up from her chair. Ivy and Dani had come to wait up for her, but Maisie found herself unable to look Dani in the eye. Should she tell her? It'll break her, she knew it. But not saying anything seemed more cruel. Maisie wouldn't want any of her friends to think she'd lie to them.

"Just go ahead, I'll be right behind," Maisie said quickly.

Ivy and Dani looked at each other, thought better of it to say anything, and departed to the canteen.

Maisie's thoughts were all over the place, and so we her hands whilst cleaning up her books and pencilcase.

She was so clumsy it dropped on the floor and all her pencils spilled out of it, on the floor.

"Here, let me help you."

Maisie immediately recognized the deep voice, and she jumped.

Ethan was smiling at her.

_He must think I'm a complete moron_, she thought. _I am a moron_.

Ethan had hair as black as ravens and eyes such a light shade of blue they could have been made of liquid ice as far as Maisie was concerned.

"No, no, that's fine," she said quickly, smiling and ignoring the fact she was bright red.

Ethan bent down nonetheless, grabbed the pencils from the floor and handed them to her. Their fingers touched for split second but to Maisie it felt like an electric shock.

She quickly peeked at Ethan's face, but he hadn't even noticed and was stuffing the last bits in her pencilcase.

Maisie was too flustered to say something so she smiled as a thank you, packed up her pencilcase and flung her bag over her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Ethan asked. "You seem a little absent, if you know what I mean. Is something wrong?"

Maisie gawked at him. They'd never spoken before and now this much in one day. And he was worried.

Ethan noticed she was staring at him and he smiled shyly.

"No, nothing," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze and smiling at the ground.

"Well, I need to get out the laptops for Mr. Holden," he said. "I'll see you in a short while."

"Yeah," laughed Maisie, not knowing anything better to say.

Off to Tutor Class, then. Off to Dani. Maisie really didn't like telling harsh truths. But she couldn't lie. Dani had to know who her real friends were.

Mr. Holden's monotone voice was the least of anyone's worries right now. Something about the future, college, jobs, etcetera. But Fred was much more concerned with the present.

And so were his mates. Every single one of them, in the same corner of the Art classroom, had encircled Fred and were now bombarding him with questions. You see, he had a huge hickey on his neck. Chris, Jesse, Ethan and Frank all wanted to know who put it there.

Oliver was strangely silent. All he did was toss Fred knowing glances and it made him even more uncomfortable than he already was, everyone staring at his neck and asking questions.

"Was it Jackie? Are you back together?" Frank tried. "You could have told us, Freddie."

"Are you seeing someone else?" said Chris. "You got another chick? What's her name? We know her?"

"Fred, any idea what you want to do later?" the teacher asked suddenly.

_Thank you, sir._

"My Dad's got a neat job, sir," Fred replied. "He travels all around the world."

"Good," Mr. Holden said. "Anyone else any idea? Louise?"

"I don't want to think about college yet," Louise shrugged. "It's so far away."

Mr. Holden was around sixty, Fred guessed. His hair had already gone white, and his face was lined with wrinkles, even though Holden liked to pretend he was fit for his age, he really wasn't.

He was as absent-minded and chaotic as you would expect from any Art teacher.

His sketches were all right, though, and Fred certainly admired the way Mr. Holden could draw something in a few minutes time.

But when he was supposed to explain stuff to the class- it was horrible. The old man spoke in fragments of sentenced, pronounced half the words with an odd accent no one could place.

There was no understanding it, and those times Fred tried he often ended up having a headache.

Oliver and Fred made fun of Mr. Holden all the time, however neither of them disliked the man. He was a sympathetic fellow, but he had never quite caught the meaning of the phrase 'to keep your nose of out other people's business.' He was a nosy man.

That was a quirk that did not really help him with his tutor duties, nor the fact he always knew best (at least, according to Mr. Holden himself) and never allowed you to finish your sentences.

But once he was not their teacher, not their tutor, just Mr. Holden, he was nice to talk with.

The teacher had gone into a heated discussion with Louise, and all the class' attention was drawn to it. They did not notice Maise and Dani hugging in the corner, for a reason entirely unknown to Fred.

All he could hope for now that Louise's snappy comments would be enough to keep his friends busy so they would forget about the hickey.

Jackie couldn't have put it there, he hadn't spoken to her in weeks. But what was he supposed to say then?

'Nah, it wasn't Jackie, it's Ollie's?'

The thought alone made a blush creep to Fred's face. He looked at Oliver, into his brown eyes and tried to smile.

So did the other, but the smile was a fake one, and the trouble behind it overshadowed this attempt at a smile.

Fred had been feeling all funny around Oliver, his best mate, for the past few months and now he had a hickey on his neck. From _him_.

It was still hard to process sometimes. Fred let his thoughts wonder off once in a while, thinking of what this thing really meant. He doubted you could call such thing 'friendship.' But the idea of calling Oliver his- his-

Unthinkable.

Holden never spoke much when he used her. Not even at the beginning.

She wouldn't say too much either. She'd cry sometimes, of course, but that was mostly only in the beginning.

Sometimes she couldn't even remember how it started. It was because of a secret... _the_ secret, to be frank, it was some kind of blackmail. It wasn't something silly, oh no, it might just be S.K.'s wet dream.

She and the teacher met up everytime after school, Mr. Holden would smile and let her in, close the door and shut the curtains. He'd brush her auburn hair out of her face, and kiss her full on the lips.

He tasted of coffee, he had a small beard and there was of course the voice in her head screaming 'this is disgusting,' but other than that...

She almost didn't feel it anymore. She knew she could never enjoy it, so she had taught herself to refrein from any feeling at all. Her entire body was completely numb.

When Holden was done kissing, his hands would start to wonder, travelling up and down her thighs like little spiders. That wasn't the worst part.

The girl had never liked spiders, but as long as his hands would stay at her thighs instead of exploring the rest- in the end they always moved upward, gave her bottom a small squeeze, meant to be gentle, but it hurt like hell. After that, the old man's fingers would trace her spine, run over her shoulder blade and then stroke a breast. He kissed her again and moaned.

"Up you go," he said, patting his desk.

He'd made sure there was nothing left on it. Still, she frowned and stayed where she was.

"We had a deal, remember?" he said, the tone is his voice becoming more dangerous.

This wasn't a request anymore; it was a comand.

Still, she looked at him disbelievingly. Did she have to?

"Fine," Holden huffed. "There's cops in school, you know? If I step to the DI now, you'll be behind bars before you take another breath. Your mom and dad'll go too, and you'll never see them again. You'll spend all your life in juvy and you'll never be able to get another job with a record like this."

The girl bit her lip and her eyes flashed to the man's, filled with anger. She used to think they were honest, brown eyes, but now...

She put her hands on the desk, ignoring her conscience and climbing on it. Mr. Holden smiled contently.

"Clever girl," he said, smirking and leaning over, his face perilously close to hers. "You're a lovely girl, with your dark green eyes and auburn hair. Those little freckles that grace your nose. We wouldn't want such a pretty face to waste away in a prison cell, would we?"

The girl shook her head.

"Good," he smiled, stroking her hair, "not to mention an orange jumpsuit would clash horribly with your hair..."

Danielle wiped the last black patches from underneath her eyes, applying a small layer of concealer, just to be sure no one would see she'd cried.

She detested crying. Not that she minded when others did, but it made her feel so vulnerable and pathetic.

Maisie had held her the entire time, though. It was good to know she had real friends left. Besides Louise, of course. Maisie and Louise had to be her closest friends. Stella had once been amongst them.

The worst part is she wasn't surprised at all to find out what Stella'd said behind her back, but that did not mean it hurt any less.

_She's the last person who gets to say that,_Dani thought, outraged. _She was fatter than any of us, and you never heard me call her a fat pig._

"Oh the irony," she mumbled, making a fresh line above her eye.

Her phone buzzed.

**Drowning in your tears yet, hon?**

Let us hope you haven't because I know the perfect way to take revenge.

Oh the irony indeed...

-S.K.

"And of course you're still here, too," Dani said.

Then the words dawned on her. Revenge? Should she- if she'd spill Stella's secret, that would be payback enough. Now look who's gossiping behind whose back...

But a lot more people would come to know. And could Dani really do that to someone?

Stella and she used to be such good friends, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. They lived different lives back then.

But clearly Stella didn't hold their friendship in a high regard, if she saw fit to call Dani fat behind her back...

She wasn't even really fat, but very curvy. She couldn't help she had an E-cup.

It was Stella who had been seriously overweight, until last summer. She'd come back underweight. Incredibly underweight, perilously so.

It would be all over the website tomorrow if Dani pursued. Should she? Could she? Wasn't this the highest form of treason?

BEEP BEEP

**You know what the reward will be, don't you, my dear?**

-S.K.

Oh, Dani knew. If I tell you, you'll help me get rid of you. She knew perfectly well.

Shouldn't this be worth it? Better hers than secrets of innocents...

But how would she let S.K. know? It felt odd to say it out loud, but she couldn't reply with a text, since the number was blocked.

Still pondering her answer, Dani left the toilets and stood still in the empty corridor, her phone in front of her.

She looked around. Was there no one else in the hallway? If someone would hear her speaking to S.K...

"How do I-"

S.K. had replied to her before she could finish her question.

**Text the number below. Don't give this to the detective it won't get him anywhere.**

-S.K.

Dani's fingers started shaking. She suddenly wondered how Louise was doing this. How much had she given S.K. by now?

In the end her trembling fingers were able to type in the message, and with a sigh she pressed send.

**Revenge will be yours, milady**

-Your knight in shining armour, S.K.

P.S. Here's your clue: 034B, 052C, 067E.

Dani furrowed her brows in concentration. What was she supposed to do with these series of numbers? What did they refer to? Were they codes of some kind?

_Come on, think._

She had to concentrate. What could these numbers refer to? What types of codes are there?

Er- you had binary codes (which could be rules out, since Dani knew they only contained the numbers 0 and 1) bra codes (but 052 and 067 were not sizes) library codes-

In a split second she'd opened her bag and gotten out the book they were reading for French. It was from the school library. In the front was a white page, on which were the date the book had to be returned, and where the book belonged in the library.

It said 021A. The code was a similar one. Dani felt a grin forming on her face and she rushed toward the library, and soon found herself running through the various shelves and pick up the books S.K. had hinted at and put them on her name to borrow.

That afternoon Dani sat on the floor of her bedroom with the three books open and around her.

She'd discovered each book had two highlighted words in them. Six, encircle, find, suspect, notebook, point.

Dani sighed and let herself fall back on the soft carpet. This was a start. This was the first clue.


	7. All Our Woes

**This is chapter seven everyone. This one will have a flashback, maybe two. They're in italics, but to distinguish from the character's thoughts I put a * before and at the end of each flashback. Thought you ought to know.**

* * *

Louise had been too late. Stella was crying in her arms, but she had not been the one to cause it. She had been too late.

_*After she had seen Dani cry, Louise was filled with anger. How could Stella? And Jenny, she'd just laughed. An action like this demanded revenge. And she needed a secret anyway.*_

"I- I'm sorry I never told you," sobbed Stella. "I was ashamed. I wouldn't want you to think the bullies had really gotten to me."

"Your parents told Dani and Jenny's parents," Louise said. "It's fine, we knew."

_As if your physique wouldn't tell us._

Louise and Stella were seated in a private room in the school, which had been made for people to came and cry here, or think, or pray. It hardly used to be occupied, but since S.K. showed up... Louise was pretty sure you would have to make reservations in the near future.

"Will this ever come to an end?" Stella said, suddenly the sadness in her voice had been replaced by bitterness. "Will S.K. ever stop terrorising this school and its students?"

"It'll come to and end when Sherlock catches them," Louise assured her. "Just think about Sherlock. We might try and talk to him again."

"He's probably more interested in Dani, or Maisie, or Ivy," the other snarled. "No matter if they want it or not, they always seem to get what I want. Without even trying. I mean, Dani had no interest in him whatsoever and he's talked to her twice now."

"I told you," said Louise, trying to laugh, "The first time was purely coincidental, and the second time she was in an interrogation. I don't know about you, but at that moment I did not envy her."

"I do _not_ envy her," Stella spat, "nor Maisie and Ivy. Nor Ruby and Kate. Why was she interrogated anyway?"

"Dunno," Louise shrugged.

"It's not like she knows anything," huffed the curly girl. "As if she's smart enough to deduce anything by herself. I've practiced since I knew Sherlock Holmes excisted."

_And we see how it paid off._

"Will you try and talk to him again?"

"It's too late now, I guess," Stella sighed.

*_Louise thought her eyes deceived her when she read that text. Someone else had been faster than her. Someone else had spilled Stella's secret before she had._

Her thoughts immediately went to Dani. It would have been the perfect way to take revenge.

But Louise had needed this to save Jenny, and now she had nothing.

She and Dani should just have communicated. Both of them would have gotten their way.

Now Louise was in desperate need of another secret. And S.K. demanded proof. In any possible form. A picture, a crumpled note, anything.*

Stella's bitter tears had made way for angry ones.

"Sherlock must catch S.K.!" she said, fuming. "And if the person who did all of this to everyone is known, I'll-"

Louise's phone rang. When she looked to see who'd called, she saw Dani's name on the screen. Stella was looking over her shoulder.

"I gotta answer this," Louise said, who had a feeling this was important, "will you be okay on your own?"

Louise took the grunt that followed as a yes, and sprinted out of the silence room, onto the hallway with her phone to her ear.

Dani's words were short, clear, and quite alarming. She wouldn't be giving out orders if she wasn't serious.

"Don't speak. Meet me at the abandoned English classroom, 204. Don't tell anyone."

Louise didn't even have enough time to answer, for Dani had hung up right after her last word.

Louise went straight to classroom 204. She found Dani waiting outside of the door. She had a key. Louise frowned.

"How did you-?"

"Mrs. Tatcher gave it to me," she said shortly. "She thinks we're using the room to prepare for next week's presentation."

"And we're not, obviously."

"Obviously."

Dani opened the lock and ushered her friend inside. After they were both in, and had locked the door behind them, Dani gave a deep sigh and opened her bag to toss three books on the table. There was a note sticked to one of them. With six words.

"What is this?" Louise asked.

"It's a clue," said Dani, smiling for a split second.

"How did you- You sold Stella to S.K., didn't you?" Louise guessed.

"It sounds like I sold her soul to the devil when you say it like that," the other said, her cheeks red as cherries.

"You practically did. But I'm not angry. We had the same thought. Though we apparently had different reasons."

"S.K. told me this was the only way I could get clues," Dani shrugged. "But what about you?"

"I need it to keep Jenny safe. She's pregnant with Frank's kid, and I wouldn't want it to leak out like this," Louise explained. "I was doing the exact same as you."

"So I guess thinking along the same lines can be rather unfortunate," the blonde girl laughed, doing whatever she could to lighten the mood.

"I'd already texted S.K. but I got the reply that this secret had already been used. I knew it was you, and I don't blame you, but-" Louise sighed and bit her lip. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do right know. S.K. grows more impatient each day..."

"We'll find another secret to give him," Dani said. "As Maisie said, everyone's got dirt on them. We haven't dug far enoug yet, that's all."

Maisie sighed and chewed her pen. She had to stifle a laugh when she noticed Ivy was making funny faces to her from the other side of the classroom.

They were in Economics and she was sitting next to Thomas. Once in a while they would have good conversations, but lately Maisie suspected Thomas was afraid of her.

You see, Maisie was mostly all over the place, and Thomas was the politest and calmest kid walking this earth. That's why she could never ever imagine a quiet guy like Ethan liking her. She probably scared him, too.

Mrs. Wilson, their teacher, was a kind old woman with short gray hair and a friendly smile. Everybody in 4B probably liked her the best of all the teachers. She was also in charge of the upcoming party at school.

"Just a reminder for you lot, the party will start at nine o'clock and it will end around midnight," she said.

She added with a mischievous, "If you are planning on having any afterparties, fine by me, but not in this building."

The class laughed. They liked her much better than Mr. Holden. But Wilson was in charge of 4A, not B. They would have to deal with it.

The only thing that Mrs. Wilson had against her, was that she was so absent-minded and chaotic and she forgot everything. So none of Maisie's peers was surprised when the old lady jumped and grasped a note from her desk.

"Oh!" she said loudly, reading and remembering. "I nearly forgot to tell you. I got this letter from the principal. He was a bit sceptic about having a party in these dire times, but don't worry, I changed his mind. Things will be going on as planned."

"But?" said Bernadette sharply. "What's the catch? There's always a catch."

Maisie spotter Louise roll her eyes at Dani and the two started whispering. It was no secret Louise didn't like Bernadette for a bit. She thought Bernadette always got what she wanted out of pity. Louise despised pity.

Mrs. Wilson sighed and recited from the letter, "Due to recent events I should think it only appropriate that we take precautions. A party like this should be perfect blackmail material."

A lot of soft giggles erupted from the students' mouths.

"What does he think we're up to?" Emily laughed.

"What happens in Barton's, stays in Barton's," said Chris mischievously.

"Not with S.K. around," Olivia said softly.

"Don't worry, that's why the principal has taken precautions," Mrs. Wilson reassured them. "Besides me, there will also be four from the invastigation team present."

"Who?" Bernadette asked loudly.

"Er- hang on, there's names here," said the teacher, "John Watson, Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes and Greg Lestrade."

At the mention of Lestrade's name Ivy, Dani and Maisie and smirked at one another. Thomas saw it and his eyebrows rose, though he was smiling a little.

After that a rush of discussion rose, so Mrs. Wilson just laughed and told them they could all chat about the party for the last few minutes. Then, something that made Maisie's heart pound happened.

Forget pounding. The organ was trying to escape from its rib cage.

Ethan walked up all to the front, where she and Thomas said.

"Thom, will you and Harry come to my place before the party? My mom can make us snacks."

Thomas nodded. "Sure, sounds fun."

Ethan's icy blue eyes turned to look in Maisie's eyes, also blue but a way darker shade.

"You coming too?"

"Yes," was all she could stammer. "Of course."

"You're not the person to miss one of these parties," he grinned.

Maisie blushed. Was that a compliment or an insult? Her thoughts were messed up. Everything was a big vermicelli soup.

"Is the A-plan still on track?" Ethan asked, leaning in and his voice dropping to a whisper.

The A-plan was short for the alcohol plan. Every year a student would slip a flask of rum or brandy or whatever into the punchbowl. Even all the good kids would get drunk off it.

"Of course it is," Maisie said, smiling. "This year it's Louise's turn, I believe."

She cursed herself for not being able to think of anything to continue the situation. Ethan noticed she had nothing left to say, so he just smiled at the ground and said, "Cool, well, I see you there, I suppose."

_I am a moron. Truly._

Thomas had never really expected to feel that much compassion for Stella before. She was the girl who was always mean to him, made fun of him behind his back, gossiped about people he cared about (such as Dani and Bob) and she always said such horrible things about Harry.

She was always moody, attention-seeking and Thomas felt like that girl was always plotting how to ruin other people's day.

Still, he'd somehow found himself talking back to a girl who stuck two fingers in her mouth- as if she wanted to make herself throw up- and laughed at Stella with her group of friends.

Stella herself looked if possible even more surprised then himself. The surprise changed into suspicion, and as she narrowed her eyes she snarled, "What'd you do that for?"

"A simple thank-you would have done, you know," said Thomas, shaking his head and continuing to class.

But as he strolled through the numerous hallways, he couldn't take his mind of what he saw. There were Stella's everywhere. Almost every kid he passed was being made fun of by someone else. A girl from second grade had to remove the thousandth copy of her nude photo from her locker, a tall boy with red hair was called junkie to Thomas' left, and that was just the beginning of it.

_This is all S.K.'s fault,_ Thomas thought. _Before they showed up there were just rumours. Now the students have access to facts, and evidence to support it. Everyone just laughs, and bullies, and is glad it's not their name on the site. _

This had to stop. As far as Thomas was concerned half the school had already had its turn. What would S.K. do if they'd had everyone? There would always come new things to the surface. New dirt, new secrets. New ways to ruin someone's life.

Thomas wondered how the investigation was going. Rumour has it the cops were sure S.K. was the murderer. Or S.K. and the killer had to work in tandem, at least. Did S.K. only kill secrets, or people too?

What would the detective expect to find at the party? Does he expect to see S.K. filming people with a little camera? Or did he have leads, and did he come there to see if he was right?

Thomas surely hoped he did. He hoped with every fiber in his being, with every working cell in his body that S.K. would be caugth very, very soon. This had lasted long enough.

"And that's all you have?" Greg said. "This person's a guy, that's all you have? And you didn't even come up with that yourself?"

"Well, I suppose I could have come up with that myself if it had been me who had gotten the text in stead of that girl!" Sherlock snapped. "If can't make bricks out of dust, I need data, data, data!"

"You've got an autopsy report of both corpses, what more data do you need?" Greg huffed. "Mostly you need less than that."

"Is something wrong, Sherlock?" asked Molly worriedly. "Something that you're not telling us?"

"Don't you get it, Gavin? We need to look beyong the murder, beyond the bodies!" said Sherlock. "These students were murdered because they knew something about S.K. Jane had ink marks on her, probably because she had some written document with information. The boy, Rick, probably saw something he shouldn't have seen- he was on the run. He must have seen the girl get murdered, who knows, he might have seen the murderer's face."

"I thought we were looking for a killer, here, not S.K.," the D.I. said, with a puzzled look on his face.

"Sherlock's pretty sure those people are linked, if they're not the same person," John explained, "aren't you, Sherlock?"

"They _must_ work together, it's the only way it makes sense," the detective muttered under his breath. "Molly, did you talk to the principal about that school party?"

"Yes," she said. "Everything is arranged. The man was most pleased. He wanted to cancel the party, you see. I told him all four of us will be attending."

"I don't see how a party will help us," said Greg.

"If you don't see how drunk students in a party mood are a feast to S.K., you've got to be dumber than Anderson," said Sherlock.

"That still wouldn't give you any data," the D.I. replied snappishly.

"The students have got all the data we need," John said. "They don't know what to do with it, but they've got the data. Sherlock, you just need to apologize to Danielle- and Stella- and whoever else you offended."

"If Sherlock's got to apologize to everyone he's ever offended-" Greg smirked. "That'll take more than one lifetime."

"Fine, fine, I'll apologize to the girls," said Sherlock crossly.

Molly smiled at him. "What time will you pick me up?" she asked him innocently.

It took a lot for John not to burst out laughing because of the looks on Greg's- and especially Sherlock's- faces.

* * *

**Even more reviews would make me a very happy person. I love to know what you think!**


	8. Dance with the Devil

**So, this chapter was done very quickly but I've taken some more to to improve it and add little bits in it to make it longer and better. By the way, each POV happens simultaneously in this chapter.**

* * *

Ivy applied another layer of lipstick, puckering her pink lips in front of the mirror. She rearranged her bangs, and straightened her dress.

"I think I'm done," she said, turning around and facing her friends, "how do I look?"

"Hideous."

Maisie and Ivy burst into laughter, and when they'd finished Ivy twirled around. She was wearing a light pink dress with a tight body, but the skirt was wider and decorated with tule. She was rather worried she looked too sophisticated for the occasion.

"You look lovely," said Ruby, on a more serious tone. "The colour looks nice on you."

"Thanks," Ivy smiled. "You want me to get you drinks?"

"Bring up the booze!" Maisie joked.

"Actually, I was thinking about diet Coke," Ivy laughed.

"Maisie's already going to drink enough on the party itself," Kate smiled. "It's Louise's turn, isn't it? Knowing her, it's going to be strong stuff. I'll pass, thanks."

Ivy went down to get everyone a drink. When she entered her room again, she saw Ruby, Willow, Maisie and Kate lined up in front of the mirror, all of them doing their hair of make-up.

Kate and Ruby looked terribly sophisticated next to the other two.

Kate wore a tight leather skirt, a white T-shirt and a jacket. Kate always wore jackets. Her blonde hair was done up in a neat bum and she was wearing purple eyeliner to accentuate her green eyes.

Ruby, on the other hand was wearing a purple peplum top and black skinnies, a white bow in her dark brown hair to keep it out of her eyes and her make-up was simple.

Maisie wore a bright blue halter top and a tight black and white skirt, which hardly left anything to the imagination. Her long blonde hair was in a fishtail braid her eyes were smoky.

Willow had opted for a body-hugging blue dress, to bring out her tiny waist and her curves, and though the front reached up to her collar bones, her back was bare. Since the dress was rather plain, and Willow always had to willowfy stuff, she'd made a wing at both eyes with eyeliner.

"I'm so excited," Maisie said. "Ethan spoke to me yesterday, did I tell you?"

"About a thousand times," Ivy smirked.

"I am really glad, but also really nervous," she said. "If Louise brings some strong stuff I might dare to dance with Ethan at the end of the night."

Ivy smiled mischievously.

"I might steal off with Oliver tonight."

"Oliver?" Willow asked, raising her eyebrows. "Why Oliver?"

"He's cute," Ivy said. "He's good-looking and we have loads of fun in Chemistry."

"Oliver's taken," Maisie said.

"By who?" all the other girls asked at once.

"Fred."

Ivy, Ruby, Willow and Maisie laughed, but Kate tutted and said, "I'm pretty convinced Fred's seeing Jackie again."

"We're just joking around here," Ivy said. "No need to get yourself worked up about it."

Maisie's phone buzzed. All the girls in the room tensed. Everytime a phone buzzed they were scared it was another S.K.-alert. But Maisie looked and sighed, "It's just Dani. She sends us a picture of Louise, Stella Jenny and her in their outfits."

"Let me see," said Willow.

Dani, Louise, Stella and Jenny had sent a picture of them standing in front of a mirror.

Louise wore a surprisingly stunning black laced dress that reached her kneed and had her thick brown hair in a high bun on her head. Her piercing shone in the reflection.

Stella was dressed plainly, with a black T-shirt and grey skirt, which should have been a high-waist miniskirt but Stella wore it on her hips so it looked weird and loose.

Jenny had a turqoise cocktaildress on, with pink butterfly print and her chocolate coloured curls framed her smiling face.

Dani had combined a blue top with a black miniskirt, and her golden hair flowed graciously over her shoulders.

"Cool," said Ruby. "Come on, we should make one, too."

* * *

"He's staring. Dani, he's staring, what will I do?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. "Just throw it in there, Louise, for God's sake. I told you, I'll watch out for teachers or cops."

Louise's green eyes flashed to Sherlock again. "But he's staring."

"I sent Stella up to him, she said she'd be able to keep him busy," Dani assured her. "Look, there she is."

And sure enough when the girls looked they saw Stella tapping Sherlock's shoulder and engaging a conversation.

"Quick, quick!" Dani urged her friend, and Louise got the silver flasks from her bag and give it a good smell.

"God, that's strong," she said, before she emptied all the flasks in the punch bowl.

"My god, how much is that?"

"2.75 litres, to be precise," Louise smiled. "My brother helped me. It's proper whiskey, rum and brandy all mixed up."

"Jesus!" Dani gasped. "Louise, are you trying to get us drunk or in a coma?"

"2.75 litres in a bowl of ten litres is not that much," Louise laughed. "Just enough to get this party started."

She gave Stella a thumbs-up to let her know the plan had succeeded.

Dani had poured two red plastic cups full for Louise and herself, and grinned, "Bottoms up."

And then, like they had given off a secret signal, a horde of other students came to get some punch as well.

After a while Dani found herself and her friends dancing and cheering and singing along to the loud music coming from the boxes, and Sherlock or any of the other supervisors were forgotten.

Dani's head was light because of the alcohol and she was starting to lose her voice from all the shouting.

The following couple of moments were all one big happy blur and consisted of her body in close proximity to others' bodies, both moving to the enchanting rhythym of the music.

Hands were on her, her hands were on others and she did everything the music commanded her. For a second she thought she was- reality and imagination were indistinguishable at the moment.

Until- It was like some unknown force in the universe turn her focus back on and zoomed on a figure dressed in blue, chestnut-coloured hair waving behind her, leaving.

Willow. What was she doing? Dani had to know. She struggled to get herself through the dancing crowd and ran after the girl in the distance.

Willow sat on the bench outside, blinking uncontrollably and breath staggering. She was clearly just as drunk as Dani was.

"Wha's wrong?" Dani asked, sitting down next to her.

"Just needed some air, that's all," said Willow, her breaths only quickening.

"Easy, easy," said Dani, grabbing the other's wrist, "breathe in, and out. Like me, c'mon. Inhale, exhale."

As Willow got her breathing under control she sighed deeply and rest her head on Dani's shoulder, muttering, "I'm going to have such a hangover tomorrow. I drank too much."

"Me too," said Dani softly, stroking her friends' hair, "but that's what parties are for, aren't they? I've had a lot of fun, at least."

Willow didn't answer but just edged closer to Dani because of the cold, and they just sat there, counting stars.

* * *

The entire car ride had been awkward. Sherlock had just sat there, behind the wheel, not knowing what to say or what to think.

Molly just sat next to him, smiling and looking frankly beautiful. She'd curled her hair and it graced her shoulder, left bate by the strapless golden dress she was wearing.

She was also wearing red lipstick. She knew he preferred her with lipstick. His mind would tell him she'd obviously done her best to please him but then his eyes flashed to the engagement ring on her finger and then the words caught in his throat.

Sherlock was glad when they arrived at the school. Molly had the chance to chat about the lovely decorations and how much fun the 'kids' appeared to be having. He told her it would be best to split up.

The second after Molly had left him alone, he saw the girl with the curly hair and no eyebrows approaching him, giddy with glee. He remembered seeing a post of her recently. Boulimia. Not that it was a shocker, anyone could have seen _that_.

_Be nice,_ the detective had to remind himself. _They will give you access to the data you need. Without data you are nothing. You need the students._

"Enjoying yourself?" Stella asked, smiling cluelessly.

"I shouldn't be enjoying myself too much, I'm only supervising," Sherlock said, smiling halfheartedly at the girl.

"You like the decorations?"

"Er- sure," Sherlock said, looking around at the huge discoball and shiny cloths on the table. "Lovely."

"I'm glad you do," she grinned. "I'm on the students board with Sabrina and Natasha. The party was our idea."

The girl's empty words, however, did not distract from the fact he saw one of Danielle's friends fill punch bowl up with liquor. This conversation was meant to conceal it, of course.

As the party continued, and the students got more and more wasted, he was deducing away but was very awake of the fact S.K. was undoubtedly present at the party but went unnoticed to Sherlock. The thought alone drove him mad.

He saw a girl who was a fervent smoker, a boy who had tried to breathe in glue two days ago; he was dared to by his friends. And those two boys in the corner, one with blonde hair and another with brown curls, they were headed off to the bathroom to-

A lot of cheers from the crowd directed Sherlock's attention to a group of twerking girls, surrounded by boys who were clearly enjoying themselves, and egging the girls on.

He thought he recognized the three blondes amongst them, Ivy, Maisie and Danielle.

The friend who had poured the liquor in the punchbowl was also there, together with some others he didn't know.

The shouts and comments from the surrounding boys were too far away for Sherlock to hear, but he did see Maisie grab Danielle's face with both hands and kiss her full on the lips. The at first surprised Danielle later deepens the kiss into something that is not so innocent. Apparently that is what a mix of alcohol and party fever does to teenage girls on a regular basis, as no one else but him seemed to be surprised.

Sherlock didn't have lots of time to be surprised, though, for he was a girl in a blue dress bumped into him after she had rushed away from the crowd, in the direction of the door. When he stared at the door he noticed Danielle had gone after her.

It looked like there would be enough for S.K. to write about. One of these people here, was going to give a few of this party guests a double hangover.

* * *

"Oh, God, they're really doing it," said Fred staring at Maise and Dani making out on the middle of the dance floor. "I owe Frank five pounds."

"You made a bet?" said Oliver.

The boys surrounding the girls erupted in loud cheering and yelling, which made Oliver snarl, "How childish."

Fred and Oliver sat in a more quiet corner of the hall, and Oliver didn't exactly look like he was having the time of his life.

Fred couldn't truly enjoy the evening when Oliver was looking so grim. Out of the blue, he got an idea.

Fred leaned in and said so only Oliver could hear, "Follow me."

That made Oliver smirk.

The bathrooms on the second Floor were always abandoned with parties, since most people were too drunk to go up all the stairs.

Nor Fred nor Oliver had drunk that night, since they wanted to be able to remember everything by next morning.

They didn't even make it to the bathrooms. Halfway a corridor on the second floor the boys simultaneously jumped on one another and started to kiss each other passionately. Fred's hands moved to slightly pull Oliver's curls and he could feel his friend's hand on his bottom.

Fred could feel Oliver grin in the middle of the kiss so he broke off and asked, "What? What's wrong?"

"Freddie, I'm so glad I haven't drunk tonight," Oliver said. "I wouldn't want to risk having forgotten any of this by morning."

He moved down to kiss Fred's neck, and when he reached the hickey, Oliver bit softly and innocently, causing Fred to moan.

Then, Fred's body was certainly frozen by the clicking sound of a phone. Making a picture. It was followed by rushed footsteps, someone fleeing downstairs.

Awkwardly, they both break apart and stare each other in the eyes.

Neither had the guts to say anything to the other. Neither wanted to say what they both feared. A simple question neither of them would dare to answer.

Had S.K. caught them?

* * *

**1. What was your favourite part this chapter? **

**2. The title is another Breaking Benjamin song :)**

**3. Who do you ship? **

**-(from the OC's?)**

**-(from the BBC people?)**

**4. Favourite OC? Which OC do you hate?**

**If I get even more reviews I would be so glad. If you have any points I can improve on, I would also be glad to hear from you ;)**


	9. Hungover

**Author's Note: The first two POV's are flashbacks from the party**

* * *

Apparently the students who drank from the punch bowl were not the only ones who'd drunk alcohol that night. Holden had showed up, even though he wasn't asked to supervise. He told Mrs. Wilson he liked spending quality time with students. Well, that much was true at least.

"You look gorgeous," the old man whispered in her ear, and she did not like his tone one bit. "How 'bout you follow me to the storage room?"

The girl's eyes flashed to Doctor Watson, who was standing closest to them.

"I'll be right behind you," she heard herself whisper.

Holden was eyeing the doctor as well, then smiled at her and whispered, "Good thinking. You're getting the hang of working your way around the law by now, haven't you?"

He left her with her lips pursed. On moments like this she hated him the most.

It was one thing her treated her like this- but one word about her family. Of course she couldn't blame her parents for all of this.

She had her equal share in everything. How many times hadn't she gone out to assist them? And after that, how many times had she attempted to follow their footsteps.

She pulled the frilly white dress down a little, knowing it would be parted from her body as soon as she would enter the storage room.

Still, she felt her own legs transport her to it, her body growing numb with fear again. She would never get used to this.

If she could, she'd already have.

If this is what she needed to do to keep her parents and herself out of jail- this was worth it, wasn't it?

The light in the storage room was on. She paused for a second, took a deep breath and she opened the door.

The sight of Holden grinning at her like that would have been creepy enough without the growing sensation of claustrophobia she got from this room.

It was perhaps one and a half metres in width and three meters in length, and it was stuffed with cupboards filled with paint and brushed and other art tools.

Was this really all worth it?

* * *

A secret. She needed a secret. Louise hadn't been able to sleep the past few nights. She dreaded there would come a moment when S.K. just would say 'I'm sorry, this is taking to long. I'm going to tell everyone Jenny is with child' and it would be all her fault.

Louise looked around the room, not even sure what she was supposed to be looking for. Someone going outside, to smoke pot? People going off to the toilets to shag? People who'd cheat on their dates? All of these at once?

Luckily Louise was blessed with one talent. She could always see the guilty looks on people's faces.

But there were so many faces in the room she didn't know where to look. Maybe she should handle the situation as Dani had. Choose someone she hated- Who did she hate enough to- to sell to S.K.?

Fred. Fred and Oliver. Those names were the first to pop into her head. Fred and Oliver, those boys always felt superior to everyone else.

Louise searched for their faces, and saw the two of them sitting in a corner. Trust Oliver to sit aside when the other students were having fun. But there was something about the way they sat there, something not entirely normal for two friends.

Maybe it was just Fred's hand that rested on Oliver's thigh a little too long to be considered friendly.

All her friends in 4B had make jokes about them, but no one truly believed they were involved.

How sweet would it be to be able to confirm what had crossed their minds at least once?

Louise even saw Oliver smile at Fred, a smile that meant no good.

The two boys trotted upstairs, and Louise's breath caught in her throat. This was her turn. Her turn to help S.K. had come. Had Dani felt guilty, even though Stella had deserved it?

After some quick thinking Louise left her heels at the bottom of the stairs, had her phone ready and on camera and sneaked upstairs.

Before reaching the second floor Louise could already hear kissy, smoochy noises. Her jaw dropped. This was Christmas!

She lay down on the last stair, so her eyes could confirm what her ears had already picked up.

For a split second she had been afraid that Fred and Oliver would see her, but they were so caught up with each other she was just a fly on the wall.

The intensity of the kiss told her this had been going on for quite some time, and before she could forget what she was doing, she aimed the camera of her phone at then and pressed the button.

A loud click echoed through the hall and Louise knew she had to get up and sprint downstairs and hope that the boys hadn't seen her.

At the bottom of the stairs she picked up her heels and sprinted to the bathrooms.

Once she entered, she saw her own reflection, red-faced and wide-eyed, like an animal on the run.

She'd done it. She had her leverage. Something to keep Jenny safe.

Louise typed in the message on her phone and attached the picture. She pressed send with her trembling thumb.

She took a deep breath and leaned back against a stall.

Her phone buzzed: S.K. had replied.

**Splendid! I knew I could rely on you, Louise, my dear.**

**Your little friend's secret is safe with me. I'll let you know when I need you again.**

**Until then, keep your pretty little mouth shut- or we'll have more Janes and Ricks.**

**xoxo S.K.**

* * *

Stella Meyers was the last one who expected to have a headache the next morning, but the atmosphere of the party had been too tempting.

She tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes while rubbing her sore head. If the pain had been bad before, it was nothing compared to like when her mother opened the curtains.

_That's it_, she thought. _I'm now officially becoming a vampire. Edward Cullen, here I come._

Stella had already missed the first hour. Her mom hadn't minded, though. Stella was smart enough to know secretely she was just glad Stella had behaved like a normal teenager last night.

Her mother had tried to feed her six peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches for breakfast, but only the smell had been enough to make Stella puke.

After having a massive argument, Stella had gotten her way and she was sent to school with nothing but an aspirine in her tummy.

On the bus she checked the regular status updates, Facebook, Instagram and finally, too.

You'd think she would find the site abhorrent since she had been in one of the most recent posts, but somewhere it felt good. She wasn't endangered anymore.

Yesterday had been the day of S.K. last update, about some girl who had ended up in jail for shoplifting in summer holidays.

Bo-ring. Stella sighed and refreshed the page, not expecting to spot anything new.

Then her eye fell on the date of a new post that popped up. This was from today. Three minutes ago!

Curios, Stella clicked on it and waited until the page had loaded.

**Another news flash from last night's party, my dear readers!**

**Fred Richards (blonde hair) and Oliver Bellisano (brown hair) from 4B went wild last night!**

**According to my sources they've been sucking each other's faces for quite some time now.**

**Jackie Pavel, if you're reading this, I can't exclude the possibility Freddie dear has had a dirty little secret while you were seeing him. A wise move might be to inquire his true reasons for leaving you.**

**Of course I've included a nice little picture for the mistrusting ones amongst you.**

**Don't forget: I am everywhere and I know everything.**

**Bear hugs and French-kisses, S.K.**

Stella almost dropped her phone to seeing the picture of Oliver and Fred together, the proof.

She couldn't believe it. Dani obviously thought there was no doubting it, but Stella had never doubted that Fred's denials were based on truth. Fred had been lying to her face.

She read the post over and over again, but only then she noticed the ending of it properly. Bear hugs and French kisses? S.K. had said that before, hadn't they?

Following her intuition she closed the post about Fred and Oliver and then scrolled to her own. It had the same ending. There was something else about it that bugged her, it triggered something in her memory.

_Think_, she commanded herself. _You remember everything. Where do you know that from?_

It took Stella a while before she could wrap her mind around it. Didn't someone else she she knew say that? It was very, very distinctive.

Then, in a moment of realization she gasped and clapped her hand in front of her mouth.

She remembered it very well, reading Louise's and Danielle's chat on their phones. Louise had left hers on the table while she had gone to the bathroom. Stella hadn't been able to resist.

**Sherlock knows how S.K. gets by the secrets.**

And, more importantly, at the bottom of the conversation, Dani had said,

**Gotta run. Willow's growing more and more suspicious each second. Bear hugs and French kisses.**

Stella couldn't believe it. This could only mean one thing. Danielle had been the one who told S.K. about Stella's little problem.

Well, Stella thought, gritting her teeth, if she wants to play dirty, I'll throw her back a handful of mud.

Without taking time to think it through, she scrolled down to where she could pin down a reaction and typed in one single word: VINDICTA.

The bus had reached school and so Stella got out, clutching her phone to her chest, not wanting to ler her conscience interfere. Danielle deserved this. She needed to learn Stella Meyers was not someone you could mess with.

Her phone buzzed, and Stella carefully peaked at the message, looking around timidly, checking if no one was watching her. She opened the message and read:

**If revenge is what you want, Stella, I would be pleased to give it to you, since I am a very generous person.**

**But to get what you want, your dear friend on the website, we'll need a secret to put up there, too. You know what you need to do.**

**I'm always happy to help.**

**-S.K.**

* * *

"This is is rubbish!" said Oliver. "They could have told us this a little bit earlier!"

"Mrs. Wilson only felt ill this morning, that's why first period was cancelled," Fred shrugged. "It's not that bad."

Fred grinned, bit his lip, and payfully ran his fingers along Oliver's thigh, higher up to his-

Oliver's eyes widened and he quickly removed Fred's hand, looking around and breathing fast.

"Are you mad?" he hissed. "We're not even alone here! People can see us!"

They were concealed from the other students by several shelves, in the Russian section of the library. Nobody ever came there, except for the handful of students who took Russian or Russian History.

The boys sat in between shelves on the ground, next to each other, their sides and legs touching.

"Hey, relax," said Fred bracingly. "I know you're still freaked out about last night, but I actually doubt it was S.K."

"Someone made a picture of us, Fred," said Oliver. "Even if it wasn't S.K., that does not comfort me in the slightest. How am I supposed to relax when- what if they found out?"

"You know, Ollie," said Fred carefully, biting his lip, "I was thinking, the last few weeks... They were some- er-"

He laughed softly, and felt his face go red. Fred smiled shyly at Oliver and tried to muster the courage he needed to ask his friend what he wanted to ask.

"I suppose I just want to know- er- we never really talk, Oliver," Fred said, with great difficulty. "What does this all mean?"

Oliver's posture changed, he pulled back his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He shrugged.

There was a moment of silence between the two.

"Oliver," Fred pleaded.

"Nothing's changed," Oliver said stubbornly. "We're still friends."

"Oh, really?" Fred replied, his anger flaring. "I don't believe this- well, if you should know, I never knew _friends_ leave hickeys on each other's necks!"

Now it was time for Oliver to flush. He had stretched his legs again and looked Fred in the eye, a fierce glow in the brown eyes Fred loved so much.

"Lower your voice, dude," Oliver said, the his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I don't mean to argue," Fred whispered. "I just wanted some clarity. I don't get anything about this situation and I'm just scared I've misinterpreted your actions because..."

His words got caught in his throat.

"What I'm saying is, I guess, I don't want to hide forever," he explained. "I thought maybe this could turn into something nice and lasting."

As a response, Oliver edged away from him a little. Fred had been dreading this.

"Ollie," he pleaded, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, "If this is too fast, I'm sorry, but I had to know!"

"Don't touch me," Oliver hissed, standing up.

Then he looked like he realized he had gone too far. He tried to get rid of the moody look on his face and said dryly, "C'mon, we've got to go to class. Chemistry's starting in five minutes."

Unable to hide his disappointment, Fred grunted, "Okay, let's go."

He stood up and flung his bag over one shoulder, and started to sulk next to Oliver.

He was too deep in thought to hear the first girl giggling. Oliver, however, had noticed.

"Fred," he hissed, "Fred, she's laughing at us."

"You don't know that," Fred replied, harsher than he had planned.

But now Oliver had mentioned it, Fred thought he saw people laughing at them everywhere.

But it wasn't until they had entered the Chemistry hallway, Fred knew Oliver had been right.

"Hey there, fags!" called out a boy he'd never seen before.

Oliver sent a death glare to the boy but Fred took him by the arm, and tried to pull him away.

"C'mon, let's go, Oliver."

Oliver stood transfixed on the spot and when Fred pulled his arm he hissed, "Don't _touch_ me!"

"Aw, sorry boys," said a friend of the unknown boy, "we didn't mean to cause a lover's quarrel."

Oliver bit his lip, the action that only further displaced the agony on his face.

"Let's go," Fred repeated.

Oliver went from not moving an inch to moving a lot of inches at a time, walking away as fast as he could without looking like running. Fred was hot on his heels.

They passed another group of boys, that moved to block Oliver's way.

"Get out of the way," he said briskly, as Fred stopped next to him.

"Watch your tongue, cocksucker," the tallest boy snapped.

"Byron, I bet he's just put off by your face," a friend of his said and the group laughed. "I'm way handsomer than he is. Don't you think?"

Oliver said nothing and tried to push past the group of boys.

"Oi, he asked you something!" snapped the boy called Byron.

"Just leave him alone, we need to get to class," Fred commanded.

"Oliver, do you need your boyfriend to stand up for you know?" another guy sneered.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Oliver shouted and he threw a punch at him, so he was finally able to break through.

Although Fred knew he and Oliver hadn't made arrangements, the words kept echoing inside his head and he felt like there was an emptiness in him he couldn't quite explain.

* * *

**1. What do you like best about this story?**

**2. What could I improve to make it (even?) better?**

**3. Fred and Oliver: OTP/NOTP?**


	10. Cracking the Code

**Sorry, so sorry I've been gone so long but today I'm trying to do a double update. **

* * *

Thomas pitied them, seeing the boys, who had once been inseperable (though he didn't know if that had been before or after they had started seeing each other) were now sitting as far apart as they could and refused to speak to one another.

That was just the beginning of chaos. In the break, Oliver and Fred were awkwardly avoiding each other's gaze and the other boys awkwardly avoiding the topic of S.K.'s most recent post.

Thomas didn't know whether they wouldn't speak to each other because they feared being ridiculed or because they were in a fight. If they were in a fight, Thomas supposed S.K. had gotten their way. The way he looked at it he saw the Secret Killer as nothing else but a bitter person wanting nothing more than to ruin as much other lives as possible.

"YOU!"

Thomas turned his face to the direction of the noise and saw a girl with a long face and sleek brown hair stroming toward him and his friends.

He vaguely recognized her face from somewhere, but it dawned on him too late. Just when he'd figured out who she was and what she wanted, he wanted to step in, but-

Jackie had already run straight to Fred, hand in the air, and he gave him a slap across his face, which made a loud sound echo through the entire yard.

Several faces turned, as Fred's got red with shame and Jackie's with anger.

"How long has this been going on?" she shrieked, pointing her finger at his face. "Have you been sleeping around with him while we dated?"

Fred opened his mouth but no sound followed. His eyes flickered to Oliver and then back to Jackie.

The girl glared at Oliver for a second, then moved closer to Fred and demanded, "Well?"

"Well, no, but-"

"But what?" she shouted at him. "He was the reason you broke up with me, wasn't it?"

Fred seemed completely flustered, intimidated by his former girlfriend.

"Jackie..." said Ethan carefully. "Calm down..."

"I have the right to know, don't I?" Jackie snapped.

"Of course you do," Ethan agreed, "but calm down... getting angry won't solve things for anyone..."

Jackie took several deep breaths and this was the first time Thomas could get a proper look at Oliver.

Opposite to ruby red Fred, Oliver was white as chalk and did his best to become invisible.

Thomas couldn't understand how he could possibly feel. Oliver and Fred were both scorned everywhere they went, and there were rumours Oliver's parents had started fighting again since the post that outed their son.

Oliver's eyes met Fred's, a sight that angered Jackie even more. Her finger pressed Fred's chest, and she spat, "He was the reason we broke up!"

It was not a question anymore, but a fact. Fred was not denying anything, but looked at her apologetically.

The silence had lasted too long to be anything else than a yes, and Thomas saw Jackie bite her lip.

Then she acted completely on impulse, taking everyone by surprise. She turned around, but made up her mind, and spinned back around to face Fred, her fist colliding with his face.

The echoing of the smack was closely followed by a sickening crack, that made even Thomas flinch.

Not wanting to cower away and let Jackie hurt Fred any further, he stepped in front of his friend and let Ethan drag her away.

"Are you okay?" said Thomas quickly, watching the blood stream from Fred's nose. "You don't think it's broken, do you?"

"Oliver..."

Thomas followed the direction in which Fred was looking, at Oliver's retreating back.

* * *

Danielle Harding and Louise Davids had occupied an empty classroom, surrounded by textbooks, the three library books and a laptop.

"What good was it spilling any secret for this?" Louise said, frustrated. "Why couldn't S.K. have given us a clue that made more sense?"

"Don't you know you should never look a gifted horse in the mouth?" Dani sighed.

"What?"

"A saying," the blonde girl shrugged, looking at the words over and over again. "And did you really expect this to be easy?"

"No," Louise said, "I just wish it were, though."

"S.K.'s making a big spectacle out of this," her friend explained to her. "He's not going take to it easy on us."

"If he doesn't want us to find out, why give us hints?"  
Danielle rolled her eyed. _Does Louise not understand how this game works at all? Does she not understand the rules?_

"S.K. wants us to find out at some point, I suppose," Dani explained. "I don't know. But what I do know, is that S.K. likes nothing more than to see us struggle. That struggle can only be made worse by giving us so little that er feel like we have something, but really we have nothing."

"So why are we even trying, then?"

"Because we will find something," Dani insisted. "We _have_ to."

"I agree, but how are you proposing we do this?" Louise asked. "I'm clueless."

"Well," Dani started, "these six words are meaningless, so the only other option is that they translate to another code again."

"What code?" the brunette inquired. "Numbers? Words?"

"No idea," Dani confessed, "but what I do know is that this code will lead us to a clue. And if we find the clue- I guess we take it to Sherlock."

"We first need to find something," Louise reminded her. "That's going to be difficult enough already."

"If you thought this wouldn't be difficult, you're not as smart as I thought you were," she got as a response.

"You know I don't have the most patience when it comes to puzzles."

"Says the girl who loves nothing more but reading about Sherlock's cases."

Louise blushed.

"Reading it takes way less time than actually researching yourself."

"It shouldn't be too difficult," Dani said, rolling up her sleeves. "The words can be converted into either numbers or other letters."

"Yeah, that narrows it down," Louise said sarcastically.

"Shut up."

Dani concentrated on the words, tracing them with her pen, muttering, "We need to find some sort of system."

"Maybe you can magic the words into coordinates and we find S.K.'s secret lair!" the brunette jested.

Probably expecting to see Dani's face scowl, Louise's eyes widened when she actually received a grin instead.

"No," she said, laughing, "I was only joking-"

"Don't care," Dani said, still grinning. "It's brilliant. Coordinates. Six of them. They all point to one place. That's where we're going to find our clue."

"What- How-?"

"There is something the words tell us," she explained. "Look. Six, encircle, find, suspect, notebook, point?"

Louise gave her a vacant stare.

"You could make a sentence out of this, with a little imagination," Dani urged her friend. "C'mon, it's like those exercises in English. You've got the words, make a sentence."

"Er-"

Louise concentrated very hard on those six words, a little shocked because it felt like Dani was testing her.

"Er- Six points?" she tried.

Dani nodded, her blue eyes urging her friend to continue.

"Six points," Louise repeated, thinking hard. "Six points encircle- encircle something- encircle the notebook, and in the notebook, we will find a suspect?"

* * *

Louise saw the look and Dani's face and watched her friend smile, as she herself was still putting one and one together.

"What notebook?" she asked.

"Sherlock found ink marks on Jane Montgomery's body, didn't he?"

"How do you know?" Louise said. "That's supposed to be classified information!"

"I hear stuff, same as you," Dani shrugged. "If we wouldn't, what good would we be to S.K.?"

Louise nodded slowly in agreement.

"So, my point is," her friend continued, "this means Jane had a document with valuable information, probably the reason she was murdered."

"So these coordinates will lead us to where we can find the diary, and the diary will contain valuable information?"

"Very valuable information," Dani nodded. "A suspect. Louise, I think S.K. might be leading us to the one thing that would expose him."

"Why would he do that?" Louise said. "I'm not a criminal or anything but that just sounds dumb."

"Well, he could have two reasons: one, he thinks we won't be able to find the document, two-"

"He wants the recognition," she filled Dani in. "He wants people to see how smart he is. Like the cab driver in 'A Study In Pink'."

"Atta girl!"

Dani hugged her and the girls laughed.

"Let's do this," she said, "We're on fire!"

The next hour or so (it felt like an eternity to Louise, so she had quite lost her perception of time) they had spent typing stuff on their calculators and drawing all sorts of number diagrams, trying to find out the trick.

Then Dani came with the idea they first note down plausible coordinates and then they found out how to lead them back to the words.

"I think I've found some sort of system," she said after a while. "Vowels are even numbers, that's for sure. Consonants represent odd numbers."

So, you've found nothing, Louise thought, but it was a thought she did not voice.

"I won't deny you're futher than me," she said instead, "but it does not seem like much to me."

"It's not much," Dani admitted, "but it's a start. It's what we need to solve this."

Her voice did not sound tired, annoyed, as Louise's had, but excited and lively.

"Why does it sound like you're onto this?"

"Because I am!"

Dani's face was twisted into a small, shy smile. Louise knew that girl long enough to know she liked being smart, though she was not one to boast about it. Except when she wanted to piss someone off. She could be one mean, cocky bitch then.

"This is obviously some kind of mathematical formula," Dani said. "One variable is given so we need to find the x, the missing one."

"Dani, you and I have got the math skills of a teaspoon," Louise reminded her.

"Exactly!"

"Okay, why did that sound like a cry of euphoria instead of a cry for help?"

"What do I do when I don't get my math homework?" Dani asked.

"You go to your Dad," Louise said, "but I don't think that's an option we want to consider right now."

"If you'd let me finish, you know I wasn't going to go there," the blonde girl sighed.

"Very well," Louise said. "Do your magic."

"Because I am such a mathematical airhead, my Dad bestowed upon me these words of wisdom: 'if you doesn't work one way, try it the other way around."

Louise laughed.

"Is that wisdom or a innuendo?"

"Knowing my Dad, probably both," Dani shrugged. "But I think it's pretty clear what we have to do."

Louise eyes brightened and she said, stunned, "My brother's map of the school- we have to establish the most likely places to hide something small and of big importance- then we turn the coordinates into words again- _and crack the damn code_!"

Dani theatrically wiped an imaginary tear and said, "I'm so proud!"

* * *

"-so Louise vandalised her brother's map by drawing a hexagon on it, and so we found the spot and found the diary."

John eyes went from Danielle, grinning smugly, to her friend, flushed with pride, to the green booklet on the principal's desk.

"She's like a small, female blonde you," he said to Sherlock.

"Actually, he's a tall, what-passes-for-male, dark-haired, curly me on steroids."

Sherlock did not take the remark kindly, when John understood the girl had plenty reasons to be angry at the detective.

"I can't believe you had time to do this in between the sneaking around and ruining people's lives," Sherlock sneered at her.

His eyes went to Louise, the brunette. After the story it had appeared she want in with S.K. as well.

"You know that kid- Fred Richards- nearly got his nose broken because of you," he told her.

"I did not throw the punch," Louise said, shrugging. "Besides, why should I care? I never liked him and he never liked me. Me and Dani- we got you what you wanted, so I don't see the problem."

"He does appreciate it," John said quickly before any of the others could make it worse.

"He's got an odd way of showing it," Danielle said, her eyes narrowing.

"Even though I'd love to engage in this argument, if only for the pleasure of me winning, but I'd rather suggest the thing which we are here for; finally examine Jane Montgomery's diary."

"Fine," Danielle breathed.

Sherlock grabbed the booklet carefully, treating it and its pages as if they were so fragile they would tear if treated too harshly.  
He started flicking the pages nervously, and John noticed he was moving swiftly to the end, the conclusion.

Every heartbeat seemed to echo through the room like a thunderstorm, all heartbeats together being a final countdown toward the big reveal.  
John wanted an end to come to the horror these students had been going through. Sherlock wanted the big reveal to put an end to the restlessness of the case.

Then the nervosity of the detective long, slender fingers came to an end as they stopped moving abruptly.

"This can't be it," he breathed. "It doesn't make sense."

"Sherlock," said John firmly, gripping Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"Who is it?" said Louise urgently. "We deserve to know. Who is the Secret Killer?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow, and John found himself thinking that maybe the solution was quite plain, so plain that Sherlock had wanted it to be bigger. Maybe his friend had believed a master criminal to be behind it, Moriarty II, or-

"Who is it?" Danielle said. "Please, just tell us! This has been going on for long enough!"

But as Sherlock stood there, still as a statue, John knew no response would come from him. He snatched the green notebook out of Sherlock's hands, and read, "Mr. Holden."

* * *

**1. PAM PAM PAM! Surprise surprise! No seriously, are you shocked?  
2. Which OC do you sympathize with the most?  
3. Favourite OC couple?**


	11. No Loose Ends

**Double update. Enjoy. **

* * *

Since word had spread Mr. Holden, the slightly bohemian but all around amiable Art teacher, was the infamous S.K., the man had mysteriously disappeared.

"We will do all we can to locate this man and make him answer for his crimes," the principal had told the entire school that morning. "All on the police force in England are looking for him. I will assure you he will be caught soon and your grievances will come to an end."

After the speech she had heard Robin Jameson and a freshman girl speak of their personal grievances: the loss of two peers who could never be returned to them, whether Holden would have to answer for his crimes or not.

Others speculated of where he might have gone: she had even heard a little dusky girl swear she had seen him in the park when it was still dark outside and she was walking the dog.

She didn't mind where Holden had gone off too, as long as it was far away. With him the harassing was gone, her secret safe. If Holden had not posted her dirty little secret on the web yet, he would not do so any time soon.

He'd known all along. The Secret Killer, of all people, had kept her secret from the world, and all because she'd let him use her.

The talk about S.K. had even managed to distract people from their daily routines: bullying as much victims as they could. They all agreed on one thing: S.K. was gone for good.

How wrong they were. Even her own stomach twisted when she heard her phone make the noise again; the special ringtone she'd saved for S.K.'s updates.

**Hello dear readers!**  
**All the school's in turmoil about Mr. Holden but NEWS FLASH! I've got a juicy fact for you that I know you guys did not know yet.**  
**Besides a murdering old fraud, the infamous Art teacher happens to have more skeletons in his closet, this one going by the name of Bonnie McGuffin (6H)**  
**Mr. Holden is a perverse little man, and he's been using his storage room for more than just stocking Art equipment.**  
**As always, I've enclosed some proof for you, this time in the form of a video, which is not fit for the little ones among you.**  
**I suppose I don't need to remind you any longer but I like saying this: I am everywhere. And I know everything.**  
**xoxo S.K.**

She felt her breathing accelerate as her fellow students were starting to look her way, and the whispers began.

She did not know where to look, and soon her face was as red as her hair.

Which looks were worst was hard to tell: the ones that judged her or the ones that felt sorry for her.

Even Robin Jameson, who had always been sweet onher though he had never talked to her much, had felt the need to sit next to her, squeeze her hand and mutter, "Are you okay, Bonnie?"

She only had the strength to nod. Pity was the last thing she needed right now.

It made her feel weak.

She would love nothing more to put an end to that by saying she was protecting herself, and she was not too weak to fend Holden off or something like that.

Robin put an arm around her awkwardly, and he managed to blush even more than she had.

To make matters even worse, the intercom was activated, and the principal's monotone voice echoed through the cafetaria, "Bonnie McGuffin, to the principal's office, please. Bonnie McGuffin, to the principal's office."

This was something she needed less than pity. Bonnie McGuffin was no fool. She knew what would happen. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were going to give her the third degree.

* * *

"Poor girl," sighed Maisie Summerfield. "I know we always said Holden was a perv, but I never thought he was actually a perv."

"Oh, yeah," Dani said lightly, sarcastically. "My main concern was actually that Holden's supposed to be S.K. but why would he ever post stuff about himself- _were we wrong?_- No, never you mind, the fact that he's a perv is way more pressing."

"Leave that to the police, why don't you?" Maisie pleaded. "I care about you and Louise too much, I wouldn't want to find either of you dead in a corridor."

"How's Michelle been?"

"It's gotten better," she said, "at least she doesn't cry so much anymore."

"Good," said Dani firmly.

Maisie found herself looking at her friend. She had a thick many of shiny golden hair, and her blue eyes were big and teasy, framed by thick, black curly lashes. Dani's lips were shapely and naturally pink, and Maisie remembered very well that they felt as soft and full as they looked. And of course, there were the cute little freckles on her nose.

Maisie couldn't remember exactly what had made her do it, alcohol, lust, a sense of mischief, or perhaps a mixture of all of these.

"I'm glad nothing's awkward between us after the party," she said, and she meant it.

"Me too," Dani replied. "I'm not even going to ask about your motives, I don't care. But I liked it."

Maisie had no time for games, and she knew at that moment, though Dani had meant what she said when she said she'd liked the kiss, she'd lied about not caring about Maisie's motives.

"Yeah, about my motives," said Maisie, smirking, "I think it's obvious that Willow is into you."

Dani's cheeks went slightly pink.

"We've had this conversation before and I still refuse to believe any aspect of your outrageous theories."

"Oh, come on! She wants you."

Dani realized she had no chance of changing Maisie's mind, for the girl was at least as stubborn as Dani herself, and sighed, "So what? What next?"

"You could start with- I don't know how these things work, okay? But if you tell everyone how you feel, I'm sure everyone will accept you for who you are."

"Yeah, 'cuz that worked out well for Fred and Oliver."

"No, I'm serious," Maisie said. "They were outed by S.K.. If you would come forward and say it yourself, people will respect that."

"Just tell them I'm bi?"

Dani was not a coward, but Maisie could tell her friend was frightened. Having known her for such a long time, Maise could anticipatie Dani's next move. Defence: the meanest kind. Dani would turn the conversation around, change the topic to Maisie.

"Say whatever you want, but you're going nowhere faster with Ethan."

"What can I say? He's just as shy as I am," Maisie shrugged.

"You are _not_ shy, Maisie Summerfield."

"I've spoken with him a couple of times," she defended herself. "This morning I asked him what had happened with Fred and his nose, and we got talking about Fred and Oliver."

"What about Fred?" Dani asked. "Anything broken?"

The corners of Maisie's mouth drooped and the look in her eyes got sad.

"Well, not his _nose_-"

"Oh, please, do you really expect me to feel sorry for him?" her friend laughed mercilessly. "After all the things he said about Bernadette- '_she's not being a __feminist, all lesbians hate men_'- I knew it would come back to bite him in the butt one day."

"As this will come back to bite you in the butt?"

"Look, I don't hate him because he's gay- for such hypocricy you should look to Stella, not me- I just hate him because of his phoniness and his terrible personality."

"Yeah, all right, I don't like him that much either," Maisie agreed. "Nor do I love Oliver. But I do wish for them to be happy and free to be who they are."  
Dani nodded silently.

"I want to tell Willow, you know," she said finally, her voice dropping to almost a whisper, "but it's so hard, because I'm scared what'll happen if it's not mutual."

"I want to tell Ethan, too," Maisie admitted.

Then both girl suddenly burst out laughing.

"We're a couple of pussies, aren't we?" she smiled.

Dani smiled back.

"We're so craven. Hopeless, don't forget."

"If it doesn't work out with Willow or Ethan at least we'll have each other," Maisie said, engulfing Dani in a hug.

* * *

The redheaded girl had only just left the principal's office when the brunette entered it.

"Louise, wasn't it?" John remembered. "Is something wrong?"

"S.K.'s still active," Louise said, panting from sprinting upstairs. "And I'm pretty sure it's not Holden."

"Who knows, maybe the man has WiFi, wherever he's hiding," said Sherlock dryly.

"That's not it," said the girl. "S.K. seems genuinely happy that we found out. Holden wouldn't be happy, would he?"

"How would you know?" John asked. "Did S.K. text you again?"

Louise nodded.

She handed Sherlock her phone for him to read the message.

**Wow, girls! I have to say I was impressed when you and Danielle were able to 'crack the damn code' as you so delicately put it.**  
**You were able to figure out the last one, so let me give you another hint:**  
**Holden may be camouflaged, but he's not invisible.**  
**'Do your magic.'**  
**-S.K.**

"He was there with us in the classroom when we were solving his riddle," Louise said. "These quotations- I said those exact things. He made us dance and watched every minute of it."

"He'll have to give away more and more if he wants to keep us interested," Sherlock said.

"Doesn't it bother you we do everything exactly as we are commanded to?" John said suddenly. "We're S.K.'s bloody puppets!"

"We need data to catch him," Sherlock reminded him. "The text- Louise, do you have and any what it could mean?"

The girl's green eyes widened.

"Me? Oh, no- I'm not- Dani always does that sort of things. I can call her, she can come and help-"

Sherlock did not trust the blonde as far as he could throw her, but her brunette friend had a certain honesty about her. Danielle might be a little female Sherlock, but Louise was definetely a little female John. Sherlocks were clever, but it was the Johns one could rely upon. If anything he needed nothing more than more Johns in these dire times. The students did, too.

"You will do fine," Sherlock cut her off. "You can be just as clever as she is, if you let yourself."

Louise flushed, smiled, but still protested weakly, "I don't know."

"You were the one that came up with the idea of the coordinates," he stated. "You might not view it as clever, but a colourful imagination and a fresh pair of eyes- with not a detective's perspective, as Danielle and as myself, but an outsider's- can be just as useful, if not more."

Louise smiled happily and John looked as if he might say 'awww', to which Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What does your gut tell you?" said John, still smiling at him.

The question was directed at Louise, but the doctor's eyes had never left Sherlock's face.

"Well, I have no idea what S.K. means with camouflage," Louise said. "I don't know if it's something figurative, but it just makes me think of Mr. Holden having painted green and brown patches on his face like those army dudes."

_Maybe Louise was not clever enough for this, like she'd said_, he thought. _Though getting her friend here is out of the question. I've solved numerous cases on my own, I don't need a annoying teenage girl's help for this one._

"The man was an Art teacher, wasn't he?" John agreed. "Perhaps we should consider the paint thing. A clue might be hidden in there. Isn't that so, Sherlock?"

"The paint, sure," he replied dryly. "What about the paint?"

"There was this paint shop Holden used to boast about," Louise told them. "He said it was the best paint shop in all of London, and that they sold the finest paint."

Sherlock frankly was out of other options. It seemed like his mind could not wrap itself around this case, for whatever reason.

He had never been fond of asking for help, but it seemed like he was lost without it now.

The worst thing was he could not put his finger on what is was.

Having run out of other options, he let John drive them to the paint shop, as Louise had suggested.

When they arrived and entered the eerily quiet shop, Sherlock was surprised when he saw Louise had been right about the paint.

_She wasn't even trying and she's better at this than I am_, he thought. _What is the matter with me?_

"Well, we found something," Louise said dryly, though the fear was visible in her eyes.

"You can go outside, Louise," John said quickly. "You don't need to look at it."

Sherlock stood transfixed on the spot, looking at the sight displayed in front of him. He stood almost frozen, analyzing and trying to deduce.

The girl clapped her hand in front of her mouth, reality finally getting to her.

"Oh my-"

"Sherlock, call Lestrade," John ordered him, leading Louise outside.

Sherlock's hand went to his phone, dialed Lestrade's number and called.

"Sherlock! Found anything? Something about our man?"

"I've found Holden," Sherlock said slowly, "Timberland Street 234."

"Splendid, I'll send men to arrest him."

"Better send men to take him to the morgue. He's dead."

* * *

"Suicide, obviously," Molly said, examining Holden's body. "Right-handed and the bullet's in the right side of his head. There's a little of gun poeder there, so small distance shot."

"He killed himself before we could get to him," Lestrade said. "Well, I leave you to it, then. Seems like we've solved this case."

Lestrade left the morgue but Molly's attention went to Sherlock, who hadn't moved an inch since he'd gotten there.

Molly was really concerned about him when he acted strange. He never wanted anyone to know he was sad, but when it was only her, he would show just enough to tell her something was wrong.

"What is it, Sherlock?"

"Nothing makes sense," he said. "Why would he put his own name on the website, and then kill himself? If he'd done the first to make himself look innocent, why do the latter?"

"You have to let it go, Sherlock," Molly told him. "There's nothing more to it. These students finally have their privacy back."

"I can't stand not having all the answers."

Molly laid her hand on his arm bracingly.

"I know," she said softly. "But it's done now. Go home and get some rest, then you can move on with the next case."

He nodded and said, almost inaudible, "You do count, Molly. He never thought you did, but you do."

With a swish of his coat he left, leaving Molly behind, open-mouthed and her heart fluttering. This was the first time he'd ever thanked her for helping him with the Reichenbach Fall.

Did he just think there was more to this or did he only hope so? She knew Sherlock was no fool, but he was clearly upset he hadn't been able to solve anything of this himself.

_I could always give it a try,_ Molly thought. _Check everything again, just to be sure._

She did her long, brown hair in a ponytail and put on her rubber gloves, ready to roll.

The autopsy report was up on the laptop, and she read it through.

Lividty shows victim was shot on the place he was found- Murder weapon type...

Her eyes lingered on that for a moment. Was that all right? If the gun had been the one that was listed here, there was no way the bullet would have stayed within the brain.

She checked the corpse. Only one wound from the shot, she'd had to remove the bullet herself...

The gun they had found had Holden's _fingerprints_ on it. It was undeniably his gun, and if Holden had shot himself...

What if he hadn't shot himself? What if this was not the murder weapon?

Molly's mouth widened as she gasped. Holden had not shot himself. Chances are he did not even die in the paintshop.

But the Secret Killer had hinted at the paintshop, hadn't he? Molly could understand if S.K. had known Holden had committed suicide there, but since it was clear he'd been murdered- S.K. somehow had led Holden to the paintshop and had murdered him there, staging Holden's suicide.

Molly felt herself smile.

_Oh, Sherlock._

But then her excitement made way for fear. This was the third person S.K. had murdered. And all the victims had known too much. She had to tell Sherlock, but didn't dare to do it on the phone.

Everyone who knew too much had to be murdered. Someone had found out about Holden, so the man was no safe resource anymore. He was a loose end.

_If this is S.K.'s policy,_ Molly thought, _I'll have to be really careful when I tell this to Sherlock. __No loose ends._

* * *

**1. You didn't really think I would reveal S.K. so easily, did you? Who do you think/hope it is?  
2. On a scale from 1-10, who well have I portrayed the BBC characters so far?**


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